


All That's Left You

by subtextgirl



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-05
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextgirl/pseuds/subtextgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world.  But can anyone really go home again?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday 3rd July 2006 3.04am

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine

  _“Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

 

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, Battery Park, Manhattan**

“Your victim is white female, early forties. Definite signs of sexual assault, but I won’t know C.O.D. ‘til I open her up.”

At this statement, Dr. Melinda Warner looked up at the SVU detective at whom her clinical assessment was aimed. As she met the other woman’s eyes, she sighed sadly, conveying the contained emotion behind her otherwise stoical words.

Meeting her gaze, the detective in question shifted her weight to her other foot and subconsciously rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, the only outward sign that she was at all affected by the grisly scene before her.

Pulling her light-weight T-shirt away from her body, Detective Olivia Benson silently cursed the ungodly soaring summer temperatures that had plagued the city for the last month. She did this not only for the sake of the loved ones who, after a likely seventy-two hours in the heat of a city park filled with scavengers of every description, would be stripped of the opportunity to give any form of visual identification to the city’s most recent victim; but also because although only 3am, the sheen of perspiration which already coated her body would be nothing compared to the heat she could expect for the next sixteen hours or so, during which time the chance of her finding ten minutes to grab a shower and a change of clothes down in the crib could be accurately assessed as slim-to-none.

“Liv!”

Grateful for the distraction, she looked up to see her partner signalling to her from his prone position in the dry dirt a few feet from their victim. His shirt sleeves rolled up, and his face already damp, he looked as happy to have been dragged away from his wife and kids, as she herself had been to be interrupted from what she realised was rapidly becoming her new nightly routine.

“What is it, El?”

Skirting briskly past a young uni, she gently positioned herself on the ground next to her partner who was gingerly holding a near decimated square of paper in a gloved hand. Despite the arid climate, it had clearly been exposed to liquid in at some point in its recent history. Taking advantage of the streetlight above them, she leaned in for a closer look.

“Bus ticket?” she peered curiously. “Think it belonged to the vic?”

Elliot Stabler shifted the angle of the remnant for a better view before shrugging wearily.

“I’ll get it to the lab. See what they can do.”

Seeing that the body was finally ready to be loaded into the waiting ME’s van, Dr. Warner hovering alongside, the two detectives pulled themselves sluggishly to their feet.

“Why don’t you go home and grab a couple of hours sleep, El?”

Olivia slapped her partner affectionately on the shoulder as she spoke. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you could use a shower before I have to spend the next fourteen hours with you.”

Her partner smiled at the jibe before turning toward her, the expression on his face shifting to guarded concern.

“And what are you going to be doing until daylight, Liv?”

Olivia smirked briefly, the expression not quite reaching her eyes.

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

With that she turned round, and after issuing stern orders to the uniformed officers around them to finish clearing the scene, disappeared into the darkness of the park and her awaiting Sedan.

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office.**

“What do you want now, Jim?”

“Now Alexandra, is that anyway to greet your boss?”

Bureau Chief Alexandra Cabot looked up from the pile of papers scattered across her antique oak desk, at the dulcet southern tone of District Attorney Arthur Branch whose bulky form now filled the doorframe of her office.

If she felt any sense of embarrassment at her initial greeting, there was no outward sign of it. Her features schooled automatically into a picture of practised cordiality and she smiled wryly.

“Checking up on me already, Arthur? I thought I was entitled to at least a month to get my feet under the desk before I was afforded that honour. And besides, aren’t you meant to be in the Hamptons right about now?”

The DA smiled knowingly, skilfully avoiding the younger lawyer’s question, but his eyes held a momentary flicker of concern.

“How _are_ you doing, Alexandra?”

For a brief second, Arthur Branch thought he saw an expression he had, in his recollection, never before witnessed in arguably his sharpest, and most openly ambitious A.D.A. – uncertainty. But as quickly as it had appeared, it seemed to vanish, leaving him to ponder whether it was something his politically exhausted mind had conjured up to make the woman sitting before him somehow less intimidating. There was no doubt in his mind that Alexandra Cabot was different from the majority of the cookie-cutter young attorneys with whom he had crossed paths over the years. Not that she was by any means the only politically ambitious, fresh out of the Ivy League, counsellor he had come face-to-face with in his career. But she was, in his memory, the only one who had made absolutely no pretence of hiding their motivations. It was ironic, he considered, that where as pretty much every other fresh-faced A.D.A. in his long tenure with the District Attorney’s office, who had entered into the domain of the sex crimes unit, had gone from naïve defender of justice to burnt out cynic before the detectives at One Police Plaza bothered to learn their names, Alex Cabot had entered that bureau for purely political gain, and somehow discovered her ideals. The whole notion had been faintly amusing to the D.A. – that is until she’d gone and gotten herself killed.

Even now, after three weeks of her being back in her newly promoted role, and after over six months with the knowledge that news of her death almost three years previously had, for want of a better expression, been greatly exaggerated, staring at the re-incarnation of Alex Cabot was still somewhat unnerving.

The first couple of days after her return, both simultaneously to New York City, and her former place of employment, he had genuinely felt as if he were looking at a ghost. But now, after the initial novelty had worn off, that feeling had yet to fade, and he was left with a disconcerting suspicion that he was becoming poetic in his old age. He had no delusions that her drive was still there. She’d already managed to scare the hell out of all the young A.D.A.’s in her charge, not to mention her bureau deputy. But there was still something in her countenance that caused him a measure of concern. He didn’t have to be a shrink to surmise that after spending three years, alone, and with as many identities, looking constantly over her shoulder for the first sign of discovery, the woman had earned the right to be a little jumpy. But she was home now. And although no-one, in this life at least, would ever have described Alexandra Cabot as ‘warm and fuzzy’, there now appeared to be a new level of guardedness, hidden behind the perfectly controlled smile he was currently on the receiving end of. And it was this thought which prompted his closing remark.

“Well, you know where I am if you need anything.”

On hearing the door close in her boss’ wake, Alex let the smile drop from her face, her expression again blank as she turned her attention back to the papers in front of her. With her free hand she subconsciously pinched the bridge of her nose. It was definitely going to be a long day.

**TBC**


	2. Monday 3rd July 2006 9.07am

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit**

“We got a match on your victim.”

Detective John Munch’s dry tone echoed across the squad room as Benson and Stabler pushed through the heavy swing doors of the bull pen. The sun was now well and truly up and, despite Elliot’s all-too-brief detour back to Queens in the early hours, he felt as exhausted as, he was increasingly noticing, his partner looked. Not that she hadn’t pushed herself to extremes on the job, as long as he’d known her. But there’d been, for someone who prided themselves on knowing her as well as he did, a marked change over the last three years. And if he’d brushed aside his suspicions over the root of that change, the turn of events which had occurred just short of a month ago, was making the continuation of that habit near impossible. Not that they’d ever talked about it. Hell, no. Olivia Benson could be the poster child for keeping her own counsel at the best of times. And whilst those who had observed their partnership over their time in SVU would comment, somewhat speculatively on occasion, on the ‘bond’ the two detectives shared, there were some topics that he valued his life too much to even attempt to broach with her. Unless of course she gave him a wide enough opening, that is. Yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all inadvertently sitting on some kind of ticking bomb, and the clock had started the moment his morning paper opened to reveal a very familiar face being welcomed back to this great city of theirs. He was also increasingly aware that, when that bomb finally went off, there was slim chance that any of them would escape the fallout.

His reverie was broken by the suddenly alert voice of the woman he’d been studying, being directed at their fellow detective.

“You got an I.D.?”

Her earlier lethargy forgotten, Detective Benson reached her desk, and the older detective hovering beside it, in three easy strides.

“Who is she?”

John Munch’s eyebrows twisted into his typically sardonic expression as he eyed his colleague critically.

“I didn’t say we got an I.D.” Feeling Benson’s eyes boring into him, he shrugged unapologetically. “We got a match.”

By this time, Elliot’s feet had caught up with his brain and he had crossed the room to stand beside his partner.

“What do you mean, Munch?”

There was a brief pause as the seasoned detective geared himself up for what he clearly believed was going to be, for him at least, an amusing anecdote.

“I mean, we got a match.”

Picking up the pile of reports sitting haphazardly on Olivia’s desk, he thumbed through them idly as he relayed his account of their content.

“Two months ago there was a raid on a jewellery store downtown.” Again he paused briefly. Obviously not getting the response he was aiming for, he sighed resignedly before continuing.

“Although, I’m using the term ‘raid’ liberally, as this was the phrase used by our esteemed brothers…,” he glanced back up at Olivia…. “and sisters, over in robbery-homicide, to describe an eighteen year old, still in his Chuck E. Cheese uniform… and name badge, I might add, armed with a kid’s water pistol who walks into a low-rent store in broad daylight, and takes off with fifty bucks worth of costume jewellery.”

His audience waited expectantly.

“Unfortunately for him, in his haste to leave with his unpaid treasures, he failed to take into account both the flight of stairs back down to the street, and the store’s eighty year old proprietor with failing eyesight and a chronic heart condition. In his attempts to avoid the business end of a well-placed baseball bat he high-tails it out of there. The owner comes out swinging, so to speak, and in his enthusiasm loses his footing and flies down the steps hitting his head and having a fatal heart attack in the process. Our criminal mastermind panics long enough for the security camera installed the day before to take a good long look at his pretty face, before taking off. Uniforms pick him up at his apartment the next day, and he spills everything. He’s currently sitting in Rikers where an earnest public defender no doubt thinks he can get the guy off, but is really just handing some rookie A.D.A. the perfect slam dunk to kick-start their illustrious trial career.”

Finally taking a breath, Munch looked back up at Benson and Stabler, both wearing perfect matching expressions of impatience, barely masking a hint of amusement.

Munch cocked an eyebrow and continued.

“Oh, and the part which is actually relevant,” he sighed again. “You two have no sense of whimsy, you know that right? Anyway, the security footage from the store, according to the reports, showed our guy may not have been acting alone in his feat of criminal achievement. It seems there was also a woman in the store at the same time, but the tech guys couldn’t get a clear view of her. When they dusted the scene for prints, every set of his was accompanied by an unknown set. Plus there was an anonymous call about the old guy’s heart attack placed to 911, and the operator I.D.’d the caller as female. Add in that none of the stolen jewellery was found when they searched the perp’s apartment, and it looked like he hadn’t been living their alone. There was a certain feminine touch. And the prints at the apartment matched the unknowns at the store.”

The detective shrugged a final time.

“Bright, he may not be, but no-one can accuse him of a lack of chivalry. Despite what the cops and his lawyer are telling him, the guy’s not rolling. But the D.A.’s office obviously figure they have enough, so cased closed. That is until I ran the prints from your victim this morning and, guess what, perfect match. Congratulations, looks like you two just found their ‘Bonnie’.”

With that, John Munch swiftly shoved the reports he’d been reading from into his colleague’s hands.

“And thus, my work here is done.”

Pushing his shirt sleeves back up over his scrawny elbows, he promptly turned to head back out of the precinct, pausing only to throw one last comment casually over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Olivia, you may want to try actually sleeping at some point. You’re starting to look like crap, sweetheart.”

And with that, he was gone.

Giving his partner a minute to glare in Munch’s wake, Elliot silently took the reports from her, skimming through them curiously.

“Well, it’s almost a lead,” he commented dryly.

Garnering no audible response from his partner, he looked up.

“Liv?”

“What?”

“Lead.”

“Huh?”

“Victim?”

“Sorry.”

Returning the reports once more to a growing pile of paperwork, Elliot turned to fully face his partner. Finally tearing her gaze away from the door, she met his stare.

“I’m fine, El.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

His tone was light yet could not fully mask the underlying concern that coloured it.

“Liv….”

Seeing the shadow that crossed her face, the cop in Elliot recognised when a change of tack was needed.

“Munch was right, you know. You really do look like crap.”

The humour behind his words took away some of their sting, but he knew his point had been made. Taking advantage of Olivia’s uncharacteristic silence, he continued carefully.

“I know you’ve not been sleeping, since….”

A sharp glare cut him off mid-stride, but he still felt a small sense of relief at the familiarity.

“And how would you know that, Elliot?”

“Because I’ve called your apartment after midnight five times in the last two weeks, and you haven’t answered your phone.”

“Maybe I was asleep.”

“Well, then why did you answer your cell on the first ring?”

“Who says I wasn’t asleep some place else?”

“Like in an NYPD issue stake out vehicle?”

At this comeback, Elliot noticed his partner pale considerably. He felt a stab of remorse for pushing Olivia like she was a suspect he was interrogating, but he’d kept his mouth shut on the topic for three whole weeks, and what had begun as mild concern over his partner’s happiness, was now blossoming into full-blown worry about her mental and emotional well-being. If not for a particular attachment to certain male parts of his anatomy, he was a step away from suggesting she talk to Huang. But knowing he’d hit his mark, his next question was delivered with a gentleness that seemed to surprise both of them.

“Have you even spoken to her, yet?”

Whether due to the question itself, or the empathy and understanding behind it, Olivia lifted her eyes back to her partner. As she did so, the emotion on her face flashed from something resembling shock, to anguish, before finally settling on a familiar wry resign.

“I’m sure she’s been pretty busy lately. What with the new apartment, the new job, coming back from the dead…”

Seeing her mask re-form, Elliot knew that, for now at least, his chance to push further was over. But not fully willing to drop the matter completely, he again sought out his partner’s eyes, hoping that this would either convey his sympathy, or at least dissuade her from killing him outright for his next remark, and the noticeable lack of levity in its soft delivery.

“You know, some people would call that stalking, Liv.”

Instead of the barrage he was expecting, Olivia simply shrugged ruefully, still meeting his gaze. The small smile on her lips carried what he could only read as regret.

“I just need to know she’s safe, El.”

With that she turned abruptly, a hand reaching intuitively for the stained mug resting on her desk. Elliot watched silently as she sauntered over to the coffee maker on the other side of the room, casually throwing out a greeting to Detective Tutuola, as he emerged from Cragen’s office. Yeah, there was definitely no way they could escape the fallout on this one.

**TBC**


	3. Monday 3rd July 2006 9.42am

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office.**

“The detective on the Walker case just told Christina they got a hit on her guy’s accomplice.”

Not wishing to take the chance, after her earlier encounter, that Arthur Branch was still roaming the corridors of her bureau, Alex lifted her head slowly at the sound of her visitor, forcing her features into a tranquil smile.

“Excellent, Jim. Thank you for keeping me informed. Has she been brought in for questioning yet?”

Jim Steele surveyed his new boss with a wary curiosity. When it had first been announced by the D.A. that the title of successor to the role of Bureau Chief was not going to be bestowed upon himself, he had felt, if he was honest, a rather swift blow to his professional vanity. He was, after all, a damn good trial attorney, and this had always been _his_ bureau. However, he had reasoned with himself, he was still a good deal younger than the average Chief or E.A.D.A., he had no real desire to try and solve the problems of a bunch of whiny still wet-behind-the-ears A.D.A.s, and let’s face it, no matter which of his politically inclined colleagues slunk into the position, it would always remain _his_ show.

That was, of course, until the resurrection of Alexandra Cabot.

However, what had possibly surprised him the most was that since Cabot had taken up her new position within his bureau, he was still somehow the person to whom their younger colleagues selected to whine.

Not that any of them had really known what to expect when Bureau Chief Alexandra Cabot had first swept commandingly into their department, somehow over-shadowing the presence of the District Attorney himself, who had accompanied her if only to make formal introductions. Since her expected arrival had first been announced, only days previously, her soon-to-be employees had been speaking about her in tones of hushed reverence. Not that any of them had actually known her, or probably even been practising law, when she had first graced the halls of justice, but that did nothing, it seemed, to impact the scope of her legend.

Yet after three weeks, the initial ‘celebrity’ had almost faded, and the A.D.A.s had quickly realised that legend though Alexandra Cabot may be, approachable, as a general principle, she was not.

Christ, he had to admit, the woman could scare even him. She was so damned controlled all the time, it was almost inhuman.

And God help the victims unfortunate enough to cross her path; a lesson he’d had the unintentional experience of observing first hand two weeks previously when he’d walked in on Cabot and Peluso preparing the testimony of a teenage boy due to testify against his step father the following day. Steele didn’t need to have worked on the case to see the kid was going through hell. And while Peruso was clearly trying, if not succeeding, to coax him, Cabot appeared no more affected by the situation than if she were asking him to recite the phone book. Jim had watched from the doorway for several minutes before finally making a well-timed interruption. At his presence, the Bureau Chief had merely excused herself from the room and swiftly returned to her office where she had then spent the remainder of the day.

In fact, he was pretty sure that day was the first and only occasion since her arrival in the Bureau that Alex Cabot had seen fit, outside of the court room, to interact with either victim or witness.

And really, after three years selling insurance in Iowa, or whatever the hell it was the marshals had her doing, how qualified did someone need to be to hand out ‘smoke-and-mirrors’ trial strategy to a bunch of over-eager kids. It’s not like it was going to be her ass on the line in front of a judge.

Or so he’d thought.

~~~  

“You’re going to try the case yourself?”

The question had reverberated through the silent office.

Door handle still in his grip, Steele made little effort to quell the incredulity in his voice.

His boss looked up casually from her desk at the untimely intrusion to her sanctuary so late on a Friday evening. As she peered over the top of her glasses, the Deputy Bureau Chief could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile in her eyes as she politely ushered him in.

“Are you telling me you now have time to take the Davies case yourself, Jim? Or do you merely have a problem with the basic concept of my practicing law? Because, from what I’ve seen, New York statute hasn’t changed entirely in my absence.”

Despite retaining his offensive stance in the doorway, Jim Steele felt oddly off-guard. A sensation, he realised, he was definitely unused to. Releasing his grasp on the door handle, he forced himself further into the room. Leaning on a conveniently placed chair, he opted for what he hoped was the tone of a colleague offering some sage out-of-hours wisdom from a place of professional concern.

“I just thought you might wish to take some more time before taking a case to trial.”

Cabot paused for a second, her expression again unreadable.

“I appreciate your concern, Jim. But it would seem that Judge Bowen has other ideas about any further continuances in this particular case. And unless you can personally re-write the schedule for the entire Bureau before Monday morning, I fail to see a viable alternative.”

“I’m sure if she knew the circumstances….”

The Bureau Chief raised her head to look directly at him, adjusting her glasses in the process.

“I somehow doubt that Judge Bowen has escaped knowledge of the _circumstances_ , particularly if she’s the avid reader of the Ledger that I’ve been lead to believe.”

Steele fought the urge to shift under the calm stare accompanying the cool observation.

“I trust you’ve had time to read the case notes?”

Indicating several piles of neatly stacked papers before her, Cabot smiled wryly.

“I still have the weekend to familiarise myself with the finer details, but from what I’ve seen so far, the phrase, ‘guilty as hell’ springs to mind.”

Jim struggled to hide the genuine smirk he could feel rising.

“That explains the expensive defence attorney.”

Silence.

Again finding himself caught in her collected gaze, Steele attempted to put his professional mask back in place.

“Well, if I can be of any assistance…”

Cabot again surveyed him, her expression unchanged.

“Thank you. But I’m sure I can manage.”

Her eyes falling back down to her desk, Steele waited for a second, before realising he’d just been summarily dismissed.

His earlier incredulity returning, he made a show of moving toward the door.

“In that case, I won’t keep you any longer.”

Gaining no response from his boss, he hovered once more in front of the exit.

“Good luck on Monday, Alexandra. The District Attorney’s a fair man, at least, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked you to take the case if he weren’t confident in the outcome.”

As he reached the doorway, Jim turned for a final time, as an obvious question sprung suddenly to his mind.

“Davies’ lawyer still isn’t willing to cut a deal?”

At this, Cabot again raised her head.

“Oh, he offered. But I turned him down.” At her colleague’s expression, a brief smile crossed her lips. “If they had anything I should be worried about, they wouldn’t have had to ask.”

Steele was almost out the door as her last comment echoed out into the empty room.

“And, Jim? Arthur didn’t ask me to take this case. I offered.”

~~~

A week later, as Steele found himself slipping into Judge Bowen’s court room, he realised that this earlier conversation was evidently still on his mind. It was the fifth and final day of the trial, and as he discreetly took a seat at the back of the room, Cabot was apparently in the middle of her cross examination of the defendant, Robert Davies. The content of which, Steele found himself struggling to follow, as every question she asked was met with a swift “Objection” from the defence table, and an equally rapid “Sustained” from Bowen herself.

If this break in rhythm posed any difficulty to the prosecution’s case, standing casually in the centre of the room, Alexandra Cabot appeared unaffected. And Steele quickly found himself enthralled with the one woman legal suicide mission he was surely witnessing.

This feeling lasted all of three minutes.

“So, Mr. Davies, are you telling me that, in broad daylight, you mistook the officer of the law who was attempting to Mirandize you, for, in your words, I believe, “one of those teenagers who’s always hanging around causing trouble”?

Cabot took a nonchalant step closer to the witness box.

“I, um…”

At the lack of response she glanced briefly behind her at the suddenly less self-satisfied defence table. If Jim hadn’t known better, he’d almost say she was goading them.

“Judge?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Davies.”

“I…”

“Would you like me to re-phrase the question, Mr. Davies?” This time her glance fell briefly to the twelve men and women to her left. A genial smile on her face, she took another step closer, her tone conversational. “On the afternoon, in question, why were you, as your secretary and all your other colleagues have so kindly explained, such an avid observer of all law enforcement activity taking place on the street outside your office?”

“I…”

“Was it possibly because you were expecting them to show up, because your ‘partner’ here -”, Cabot tilted her head to indicate a suddenly nervous man who had been sitting in the bench directly behind Davies and his legal team for the entirety of the trial, “- had called them earlier that day with certain privileged information about a fraud scheme that could only have come from someone on the inside.”

At the lack of response, Cabot’s features formed an almost comical expression of curiosity.

“Tell me, Mr. Davies, did it ever occur to you while you were threatening the life of your wife for her betrayal, that she was perhaps not the only person who could have supplied the police with this particular piece of information?”

Ignoring the prosecutor in front of him, Davies’ attention was now fixed solely on his business partner, who could slink no lower into his seat. A look of pure rage on his face, he started to his feet as the bailiffs quickly scrambled to theirs.

A surreal casualness in her movements, Cabot took one last look at the jury, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Steele thought he’d seen her shrug.

Ignoring the commotion around her, she smiled offhandedly at Bowen. “No further questions, your Honour.”

Realising, once the chaos had died down, that he had missed his opportunity to sneak out unseen, Steele found himself reluctantly enthralled with the scene before him.

Again Cabot stood before the judge, however this time her attention was fixed on the civilians beside her.

For a moment Jim thought that she’d noticed him sitting inconspicuously in the back row. Her eyes strayed briefly into the gallery, almost as if she were seeking out someone in particular, but in a moment she restored the intense focus directed solely at the twelve men and women whom she was so vehemently addressing.

As she focused on each of the individuals, Steele watched as they responded to her instinctively – a solemn nod here, a smile there. After several minutes, he gave up attempting to follow the content of her argument; watching her with the jury, he could almost believe she was actually human. Almost.  

A flurry of movement around him, Steele came to the sudden, and unwelcome awareness, that closing arguments had ended, and he was seconds away from being caught openly spying on his boss. With few available options, he found himself on his feet approaching the woman in question who was studiously slipping rafts of papers back into her brief case. As he called to her, he thought he saw her start slightly, but as she turned to face him, her features took on the familiar expression of indifferent professionalism, speaking before he had opportunity to collect his thoughts.

“If you’ve come to offer moral support to a new colleague, Jim, I fear you’re a little late.”

Instead of admitting he’d witnessed at least some of the proceedings, Steele found himself nodding mutely.

A question seemed to flicker across her eyes, or maybe a recognition. But instead of voicing it, she gracefully gathered up her remaining belongings and indicated to the door in front of them.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a cup of coffee.”

As Jim followed, he couldn’t quite decide whether the tiredness he heard in her voice was yet another figment of his potentially over-active imagination.

~~~

“… either way, he’s looking at twenty-five, max.”

Idly sipping his stale coffee, Steele again found himself watching the Bureau Chief.

Her own cup now empty, she appeared more interested in the steady bustle of the court house cafeteria than in the status of his current case.

Noting her distraction, Jim allowed himself a brief wave of satisfaction at the idea that Cabot, for all her professional arrogance, at least had the grace to be anxious over the impending verdict. It was only as he followed his boss back into the courtroom at the summons of the clerk that he realised this distraction was not in the least affected by the news that the jury was in.

~~~

As the unsurprising ‘guilty on all counts’ echoed around the room, out of habit Jim found himself turning to convey his best wishes to the people whom he assumed to be the family of Mr. Davies’ unfortunate wife. In doing so, he was only now realising, he had barely even registered the unusual reaction, or non-reaction, to the successful verdict, of the attorney who had obtained it.

Indeed, his own acknowledgement of this had probably been hampered by the words he had disbelievingly heard spilling from his own lips.

Yet Cabot had, in her unflappable manner, accepted his dinner invitation. Whether it had been purely a reflex based more on a society upbringing than any genuine desire to share a meal with him, he was still uncertain. But once the invitation was out there, he’d quickly come to the conclusion that even if they only spent the night making civil, perfunctory conversation, there were worse people he could dine with than Alexandra Cabot.

But, just in case, instead of a fancy up-town restaurant which she may somehow determine as a date, he opted for the restaurant-bar a short distance away. An establishment which was perennially frequented by lawyers and cops who failed to make it more than a couple of blocks from the court house before the need to celebrate or drown their sorrows en masse kicked in. Better that than the risk of an awkward Monday morning encounter with his boss.

In truth, the evening had been slightly more enjoyable than he had initially envisaged. They’d made it through dinner and drinks with only minimal lulls in conversation. Alexandra, as he had now taken to calling her, had been charming and witty, and everything to be expected of the well-educated product of New York society he knew her to be. Yet if he had asked himself whether, after two hours of this conversation, he in fact knew anything more about his colleague than he had the day she had first walked back into the D.A.’s office after her three years missing-in-action, the answer would be by all accounts, a resounding, no.

It was only as they had been preparing to leave that he had again been struck by the odd sensation that there was something else behind the unblemished façade of the woman beside him. Whereas every other generic enquiry he had made throughout the evening, no matter how banal, had been met with polite interest, she had suddenly appeared again to be momentarily distracted. Curiously seeking the source of this distraction, he had been puzzled to see only the backs of what appeared to be a small but rowdy group of cops, probably detectives, making their way noisily across to the bar. Turning his attention back to his companion for the evening, he could have sworn he saw a hint of _sadness_ flicker across her features. But the next second it was gone, and the only suggestion that she had anything on her mind other than the conversation at hand was the almost imperceptible slump of her previously finishing-school straight shoulders.

The same slump, he now realised, that he had witnessed as the jury foreman had read out the “guilty” verdict.

~~~

“Jim?”

At his boss’ expectant look, Steele brought his impromptu reverie to an end, forging his features into an expression of what he hoped was consummate professionalism and re-considering the current topic of interest – their latest Jane Doe.

“Sorry, but I don’t think questioning her is going to be an option, somehow.”

On seeing his boss’ expectant look, he quickly continued.

“She’s now the subject of an open homicide.”

If she had any reaction to the facts which could potentially have a less than positive impact on her division’s case, there was again no outward reaction. Feeling the need at least to elicit a response, one of any nature, Jim continued.

“She was found in Battery Park early this morning. Provisional M.E.’s report says she’d been there a couple of days at least. Still no I.D. on her but the prints are a match. The new detectives on the case have been made aware of the connection to our guy.”

At this information, Alex once again raised her eyes from the mound of paperwork which had again garnered her attention. Slowly removing her glasses, she looked directly at her Deputy.

“Well, they’d better work fast. Finn goes to trial in less than a week. And this is not one that we want to lose, if only for the sake of our dignity.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected hint of humour in his colleague’s response, Jim Steele could do nothing but nod his head in agreement. Realising this was his cue to leave he turned, pausing briefly as he reached the door, gathering his thoughts.

“I’ll give their Captain a call today. But I think there’s going to be some unlucky detectives spending a couple of hours at Riker’s this afternoon in the company of New York’s dumbest criminal.”

Content that he’d at least put in an acceptable parting shot, he pulled the door closed behind him leaving the Bureau Chief to whatever unreadable thoughts he had just interrupted.

**TBC**


	4. Monday 3rd July 2006 12.16pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Riker’s Island, East River.**

 “Come on, Todd. Why don’t you just tell us who she is?”

 Olivia watched as Elliot towered effortlessly over the skinny kid at the table in front of them. The standard issue jumpsuit would’ve fitted a man twice his size and the harsh lighting served only to accent his large dark eyes against near translucent skin and greasy brown hair. In comparison with the bulky form of the ex-marine he did indeed look like a… kid.

 A kid who was refusing to talk.

 Realising that her partner’s approach was getting them no where, and after almost an hour of wasted time, with the only sign of progress being the insane heat outside beginning to seep increasingly into the glorified cell that served as Riker’s private visitor’s room, Detective Benson decided that it was now time to take an alternative tack.

 “Just talk to us, Todd. Look, I know this can’t be fun for you in here. You seem like a nice kid who just did something incredibly dumb. And your trial’s next week, right?”

 At this, Todd Walker raised his head cautiously. Noticing the reaction, Olivia pressed on, her tone suddenly gentler and more lilting.

 “We just want your help, Todd. Can you tell us about the woman living in your apartment?”

 “And then what? You gonna offer me a deal?”

At the mention of his unknown accomplice, the detective could’ve sworn she saw a brief light behind his sunken eyes. When he finally spoke, although defiant, his voice was soft, almost feminine with a twang that suggested a hint of the mid-west, and Olivia suddenly found herself quelling the unexpected rush of sympathy it elicited. Before she could respond with a typical platitude about that being up to the D.A., the boy continued, a humourless smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, I know. Not your call, right. That’s what the lawyer who’s gonna send me to jail said too. Except I think she’s just scared of her boss. At one point I swear she almost apologised to me.”

The smile still evident, he shrugged before resuming his steady silence, his hair flopping in front of his face in the process as his gaze returned steadfastly to the table.

“She’s dead, Todd. MURDERED.”

The sudden interruption came as almost as much of a shock to Olivia, in its volume at least, as it appeared to do to its intended target.

Taking in the now deathly pale figure before them, she turned briefly to her partner, fighting an instinctive urge to silently admonish him for the ‘bad cop’ manner in which he had chosen to deliver that particular piece of news. As she did so, she took in the tie now hanging loosely around his collar, giving, she imagined, only minimal reprieve from the soaring temperatures, and the tell-tale signs of guilt beginning to appear on his features as he observed the reaction of the kid before them.

Over their years on the job, both detectives had become unfortunate experts at the spectatorship of grief. In fact, it was almost a daily occurrence. Where as some was very obviously faked emotion to cover up a greater sin, and some the same but more cleverly disguised, Olivia was of the firm belief that it took quite an actor to instantaneously simulate the physical manifestation of true, irreparable grief. And if you asked her opinion, this boy just didn’t have it in him.

For this reason, she suddenly found herself leaving her chair and crouching softly by his side.

Before she could speak, he turned to look at her. The defiance in his eyes was still present, but they had taken on a glassy sheen and his breathing was laboured.

“You’re lying.”

Olivia sighed. This wasn’t how she’d envisaged the afternoon’s interrogation turning out.

“I’m sorry, Todd.”

“But…. she…...” he tailed off, and for a minute Olivia thought he might’ve passed out.

When he continued his voice was firmer but still barely audible.

“How?”

At this his attention fixed rigidly on Elliot, as if he, as the bearer of the bad news, was somehow responsible for its content.

Throwing him a look which unmistakeably told him to ‘go easy’, Olivia was quickly reassured that her partner was now well and truly back on the same wavelength. His body language had taken on a sympathetic demeanour, and despite the detail, his tone was verging on gentle.

“She was found this morning, in Battery Park. She was hit pretty hard over the head, but cause of death was internal bleeding.” He paused for a second, as if questioning the wisdom of his final disclosure. “There were also signs of sexual assault.”

At this, Walker’s breath came out in a forced rush, as if physically extracted from his lungs. For a moment Olivia thought he was going to hyperventilate.

Instead, he took a further shaky gasp before again focusing his complete attention on Elliot, the previous light in his eyes becoming something much fiercer, older.

“She was raped?”

Elliot nodded slowly, a familiar sense of sorrow creeping over him, as he realised that if there was any last piece of this kid’s childhood still remaining, that his time at Riker’s had left intact, he had most likely just taken it forever. Whoever this woman had been, she had obviously meant a lot to the boy, and despite the mistakes he and the victim may’ve made, the most he could now hope for was some form of justice in finding the person responsible. And on a more cynical note, this was something that at least he and his partner could use. Keeping his voice soft, he held the kid’s gaze.

“If you want us to find who did this to her, Todd, you need to talk to us. Tell us what she could’ve got herself into. You need to tell us who she was.”

Taking an unsteady breath, Todd Walker lifted his chin, his eyes now switching between the two detectives on either side of him. Like her partner, Olivia had the sense she was no longer speaking to a child.

“Her name was Julie. Julie Ericson.”

Slipping back into her well-tested role, Olivia smiled encouragingly.

“How long had you known Julie?”

Walker paused, seemingly lost in a comfortable memory. When he continued, his voice held an almost distant quality.

“Three months.” He inhaled again. “I mean, three months before all this,” he waved his unshackled hand absently around their current location, “shit happened.”

Sensing their opening, Elliot let his partner take the lead.

“How did you two meet?”

“She came into my restaurant like five days in a row, and always ordered the same thing. She’d just sit and watch the families. At first I thought it was kinda weird and I was gonna tell my boss. But then we sorta got to talking and she just seemed so _sad_. But like totally harmless. I’d only just moved here so I didn’t really know anyone, and I guess she didn’t either, so we just started hanging out.”

“How did she come to be living in your apartment?”

The question was innocent enough, but again there was a flash of anger behind the young man’s eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that. We’d been hanging out for a couple of weeks, and she knew that I’d been struggling to make rent. She’d been having trouble with her super, or something, and was looking for a new place, so I suggested she stay with me for a few weeks, just ‘til she could get her own place sorted out.”

“Seems like she was there longer than a couple weeks, Todd.”

The kid shrugged, but unlike earlier, there was no defiance in the gesture.

“It just kinda happened that way. I’d come home from work, and she’d have like cooked for me, or done the laundry.”

“She didn’t have a job?”

Again, he shrugged.

“She said she worked in one of the offices down town, as like a secretary or something.”

He looked hesitant.

Olivia observed him encouragingly.

“But you didn’t believe her?”

“I don’t know.” He paused briefly. “I’m not saying she was a liar or anything. I mean, she dressed smart and everything, but it’s just her nails were always real dirty, and when she got in from work she sometimes smelt of detergent or something.” Again he waited. “Maybe she just felt ashamed or something. She didn’t talk about it or anything, but I think she used to have, like, a really good job.” The shrugging was becoming subconscious. “Not that she didn’t have money or anything. I mean just before I landed up here, she paid six months of my rent in cash.” Seeing the detectives raised eyebrow, he quickly added. “Not that I asked her to. I mean, she just, like, did it. And when I asked her why, she got that sad look on her face again, and said she just wanted to make sure I was looked after.”

Keeping her expression measured, Olivia leaned closer.

“Do you think she might’ve been into something that she shouldn’t?”

Again, the boy hesitated. “Like drugs?”

She nodded.

“No.”

Seeing that he looked like he had something to add, the detectives waited.

“I mean, sure, when she first moved in, I thought she might be on something. Or, like, drinking, maybe. But she seemed like a nice enough person, and she was helping out with the rent and everything.”

“What made you think that, Todd?”

Another shrug. “It’s just she sometimes, would get really spaced, you know? Like she was confused or something?” He sighed. “I tried asking her about it but she always changed the subject or had to go, or…,” he tailed off. “Also, she had all these pills all the time. But ones she’d like got from the doctor, I think.”

He raised his head, again looking directly at Olivia.

“She was a good friend, okay?”

Again, Olivia observed the kid, the dawning realisation only serving to increase the melancholy she could already feel forming inside.

“So you two _weren’t_ sleeping together?”

Todd Walker stared back, even in his obvious grief, an incredulous expression forming on his features.

“Hell, man. No. She was like my mom, or something.” Lowering his head, he absently swiped a hand across his eyes once again hidden beneath his hair, almost obscuring his final epithet.

Unsettlingly unable to distract herself from the sadness permeating the kid, Olivia almost wished it had gone unheard.

“She would’ve made a great mom.”

~~~

 “Any news?”

Olivia watched as her partner snapped his cell phone shut and joined her in the only shade the exterior walls of Riker’s Island had to offer.

Running a hand around the collar of his shirt, as if this action would somehow lower the temperature of the air that would now flow there, he sighed as he slid the device back into his pocket. Absently picking at an uneven bit of brick work, he gathered his thoughts in order to adequately summarise the information he had gleaned in his telephone conversation with Munch.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the heat or the seemingly genuine grief of the kid they’d just spent the better part of two hours with, but there was something about this whole situation which was making him uneasy. And that was before he even began to factor his partner into the equation. He knew there was more going on than she was admitting to. Not that she was really admitting to anything, and Christ, some of it, if he were honest, he probably didn’t really want to know. But her reactions in the afternoon’s interview… Not that she wasn’t completely professional; she always was. But there was just something that…

“El?”

“Huh?”

Realising that the subject of his reflections was actually attempting to have a conversation with him, Elliot shook his head as if to clear it, and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry. Damn heat. Can’t think straight.”

He turned to face his partner in time to see her give him a mildly questioning look.

“I said, I still couldn’t get Walker to give us access to his place to search Julie Ericson’s stuff.”

“Did you really try?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. And from the look on Olivia’s face, he could tell that they’d probably sounded as bad out loud, as they had in his head. But the temporary misfire of his synapses did at least let him put his finger on what had been bothering him about his partner’s reaction to the kid and his lost love, who never actually was. She hadn’t just sympathised with him, she’d empathised.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Sighing again, he raised his hands in surrender, knowing that while he stood by the sentiment, it hadn’t been raised in the most constructive manner, and he was pretty damn sure he’d end up apologising at some point, so he may as well get it over and done with.

“Sorry, Liv. That didn’t come out right, okay? It’s just,” he paused looking for a way to phrase his concerns which would at least partially remove the expression on his partner’s face which indicated she was definitely now spoiling for a fight. “Look, I know things aren’t… easy for you right now…” A raised eyebrow hinted that he was probably not helping either himself or the situation at hand, but he pressed on. “It just seemed like you really didn’t want to push that kid… at all.”

“He was grieving, El.” She stopped, running a hand through her hair, the volume of her voice raising a notch. “What did you want me to do? Keep at him until he completely clammed up on us?”

Elliot braced himself for the full onslaught of his partner’s anger. But when she finally spoke, her tone soft, and her eyes downcast, he soon realised he’d have taken her anger over this any day.

“Look, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever the hell her story is, it’s pretty obvious she never felt about him what he felt about her. But why should we be the ones to shatter his illusions?”

As she finished, she took a deep breath. Elliot watched as she again ran her hand over her hair and neck; the expression in her eyes, more than her next words, telling him that this subject was now closed.

“So, what did Munch have to say?”

Grateful for the reprieve, Elliot eagerly replayed the highlights from his enlightening conversation with their colleague.

“He ran a search on Julie Ericson. A driver’s license showed up and a bank account in the city. There’s a previous address on the lower east side, but nothing else in the system.”

He shrugged before continuing.

“Munch and Fin are seeing if they can come up with anything else. In the meantime, I think we need to get us a warrant to search Walker’s place, and see what we can find about our mysterious Ms. Ericson.”

Olivia nodded, a small frown creasing her brow.

“Casey’s been working on the extradition in the Martin case. She’s not back until tomorrow.”

Elliot shrugged. “Then let’s have a little chat with the A.D.A. on Walker’s case. I can’t see them having too much of a problem with us handing them the ID of their second perp.”

With that he again flipped open his cell and headed back to the car, knowing that his partner would follow him.

**TBC…**


	5. Monday 3rd July 2006 1.03pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office.**

“Twice in one day, Arthur? I’m going to hazard a guess and say, this can’t be good.”

The Bureau Chief shifted her focus from the stack of papers on her desk to make eye contact with the District Attorney hovering at her office door.

“What can I do for you, Sir?”

On hearing the use of the title, Arthur cocked his head to one side and, for the second time that day, openly studied the woman in front of him. Coming from anyone else, the use of that particular form of address would have sounded deferent but, from Alexandra Cabot, it somehow managed to make him feel like he’d just been put firmly back in his place. Yet, as earlier, he still had the growing sense that beneath that calm demeanour, there was a hell of a lot more going on than he could imagine. Pushing aside his curiosity, he levelled the blonde with a steady gaze.

“I just had a rather interesting conversation with Don Cragen.”

There was a slight intake of breath before the lawyer responded.

“I hope he and his squad are well.”

Her expression never faltered but, at her mention of the SVU detectives, the DA could have sworn he saw a flash of… something… in her eyes.

He smiled genially.

“The Captain and his squad are just fine… except for one small problem.”

The sudden rigidity of his colleague’s shoulders was barely discernible, but Branch was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined it. He moved further into the room.

“They have a new case, which, it would appear, is connected to your bureau, and they happen to have found themselves short of an Assistant District Attorney.”

Cabot shifted in her seat.

“I thought Novak was only away for a day or two at most?”

When her boss chose not to question how she knew this particular piece of information, she paused briefly.

“In that case, I have no objection to them making use of A.D.A. Finn until Novak is back in the state. I’m assuming the detectives suspect that our defendant is concealing some vital piece of information from them, and are requesting a warrant to allow them to search the premises of Mr. Walker in relation to their victim – a course of action that he is refusing to permit until the relevant documentation has been obtained.”

The Bureau Chief stopped, as if catching herself.

The distant expression on her face left Branch with the fleeting feeling that he was suddenly intruding. For a moment he believed she was about to continue. But instead she carefully placed both hands flat on the desk in front of her, all focus back on her employer. If it weren’t for the small sigh she emitted with her next words, he would have again been unsure her that reaction was not merely a product of his own wistful imagination.

“It will most definitely be an experience for her.”

With a renewed sense that he had somehow made a wise decision after all, Arthur directed his full attention on the woman in front of him.

“Actually, Alexandra, that’s not the solution I had in mind.”

This time the silence was longer. When the response came, it was in a distinctly measured tone.

“What is it that you’re suggesting then, Arthur?”

Although his colleague’s expression was one of professional interest, the D.A. found himself fighting the impulse to back away under the piercing stare now focused upon him. Drawing on all his political acumen, he instead settled for entering fully into the room, and casually taking the empty seat across the desk from his Bureau Chief.

“Well, Captain Cragen was rather adamant that he would prefer if I could supply him with a counsellor of more experience and, if possible, some familiarity with the workings of his unit.”

He absently prodded at the pencil balancing on the stack of papers to his right.

“Even without the current extradition, Casey has at least twenty pending cases, and as much as it pleases me to see my A.D.A.’s grafting in the trenches, we both felt that she could make better use of her time than having to then take on another case which will hopefully be tied up by the time she returns.”

Arthur paused for a second, reaching for the pencil until it rested between his thumb and forefinger.

“Therefore I suggested that maybe it would be a more judicious use of everyone’s time and resources if the detectives at the 1-6 could liaise directly with yourself over this particular matter.”

Branch allowed himself a brief moment to observe the effect of his words on the woman in front of him. Although her expression was unreadable, the growing tension in her posture was no longer in question. He glanced around the room before continuing.

“Captain Cragen was more comfortable with the idea that if the case does go to trial, we have the best chance of a favourable outcome.”

Cabot took a short breath.

“And you think I’m the most appropriate person for the task?”

She played the query off as light-hearted, but this time Arthur was certain of the disquieting undertone to it. He flicked the pencil in a deft one-eighty manoeuvre.

“I think no-one, before or since, has outdone your win-loss ratio on SVU cases.”

The comment was met with silence.

“And from what Casey’s mentioned, I don’t think there have been too many changes at the 1-6.” He sighed. “Look, I’ve known Don Cragen a long time, and he has some good cops down there.”

“The best I’ve ever worked with.”

The response was soft, but the sentiment behind it unmistakable. When Arthur looked back up, he almost expected the blonde to appear embarrassed at her uncharacteristic admission. But instead the expression on her face showed little acknowledgement.

The gentle tone his voice took on, surprised even himself.

“And I don’t believe for a second Alexandra, that you can’t recall your affinity for this particular line of work.”

Allowing his features to take on the kind smile befitting of his words, he sought out the Bureau Chief’s eyes. Cabot’s gaze dropped back to her desk and she appeared to swallow. Her final comment was barely audible.

“I couldn’t forget if I tried.”

Feeling once more like an intruder, Branch pulled his professional demeanour purposefully back into place. Allowing his chair to make more noise than strictly necessary, he pulled himself some what awkwardly to his feet before fixing a casual smile on his colleague.

“Well, then, I’d better let you get back to work. I believe there are some detectives down at the 1-6 waiting on their attorney to bring them a warrant, and they’re expecting it before all the more accommodating judges head off to their air conditioned country clubs for the rest of the afternoon.”

Realising he was still in possession of the purloined writing implement, he turned briefly to return it to its rightful owner, only to see her staring blankly at the spot he had just vacated. Pulling the door closed behind him, he found himself hoping, for the first time since their earlier phone call, that Don Cragen really did know what the hell he was doing.

**TBC**


	6. Monday 3rd July 2006 3.08pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit.**

“So, where are we up to, people?”

Captain Donald Cragen’s voice echoed commandingly across the squad room as he stuck his head out of his office briefly before joining his four detectives, whose eyes were all glued to the computer screen in front of them. Munch was seemingly in the driving seat, but it was Olivia’s voice which rose above the rest as she stabbed her finger toward the screen, directing her comments to no-one in particular.

“You mean there’s no record?”

“No.”

“At all?”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

“Zilch. Nicht. Nada. Bupkiss…”

“Okay, we get it John,” Elliot cut in. Having silenced Munch, he turned to their boss. “We pulled Julie Ericson’s records on the system. Born March 19th, 1968. Citizen of New York City. Driver’s license, social security, the usual.”

Cragen’s gaze was steady. “Any priors?”

“Nothing. She’s clean.”

“Too clean.”

Cragen’s attention turned to Fin.

Tutuola shrugged. “Not even a speeding ticket. No debt. Hell, no credit cards. A savings account opened last August with three grand in it, but before that, nothing. Two addresses on the lower east side – the first around the time she opened the bank account, the second, Walker’s place around the time he said she moved in. It’s like, until twelve months ago, she didn’t even exist. Don’t add up, s’all I’m saying.”

“Could just mean she’s smart.”

Munch ducked the paperclip heading for him.

Cragen sighed. “And you’ve run the social security number?”

“Phoney.”

“So, I guess we’re thinking name change? New identity, new life?”

“Makes you wonder what she was running from.”

“Must be something pretty serious if it made her abandon her entire life.” Elliot twisted a fresh paperclip between his fingers. “I’m just saying. If you believe Todd Walker’s story, whoever Julie Ericson may have been, she had no idea that he was gonna swipe the necklace for her. According to Walker she was always looking at it in the store like it was really important to her, but she couldn’t afford it… I mean, in his version our vic sounds more like a desperate housewife than a hardened career criminal.”

“She was an accessory to a homicide.”

“Accidental. She called 911.”

“Well, look who’s Mr. Optimism today.”

“Detectives.” Cragen’s tone held a warning.

Elliot sighed in acknowledgement. “Okay, so I admit even though Julie Ericson’s only current indiscretion appears to be playing house with a smitten eighteen year old, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t into something bigger, despite her apparent clean break. Even Walker admitted he didn’t know much about her job, and he did mention some ‘erratic’ behaviour. Maybe whatever, or whoever, she was running away from finally caught up with her?”

“Just because she was Donna Reed in this life, doesn’t mean she wasn’t Martha Stewart in the last.”

The detectives’ attention turned to their colleague.

Olivia shrugged. “People change, or maybe they’re just not who you thought they were in the first place.”

“Well, our job is to find out.” Cragen’s voice cut into the silence that had suddenly descended. “Munch, Fin, go talk to her last super. See what you can find out. Benson, Stabler, you go search Mr. Walker’s apartment.”

“One problem, Cap’n.” Elliot took a sip from the coffee mug in his hand. “Walker still wouldn’t give us permission to access his place.”

Elliot looked at his partner for back-up, but she sat staring, suddenly frozen in place.

“I don’t anticipate that being a major concern.”

All four men swung around toward the voice at the door, and a genuine smile spread over Cragen’s face.

“Alex. Welcome home.”

~~~

Elliot was the first to recover. Stepping discreetly in front of his partner, he stuck out his free hand. “It’s good to see you, Counsellor.”

The pause before she returned his gesture was fractional, but didn’t escape his notice. Holding her hand in his grasp a moment longer than their previous professional relationship allowed for, Elliot forced her to meet his gaze. What he was looking for, he wasn’t sure, but he was struck by an unexpected pang of sympathy for the woman. Releasing her hand, but keeping his eyes on hers, there was genuine warmth in his voice.

“It really is good to have you back, Alex.”

She took a step back. Before Elliot could process her reaction, Fin and Munch were on their feet.

“Nice to see you again, Cabot.”

“Alex. I expect you missed me.”

As she lifted her eyes once more, the lawyer’s shoulders appeared to straighten. Her gaze wandered around the squad room. By the time she finally replied, the area had fallen almost silent.

“It’s good to be back.”

The growing quiet was jarred as Cragen cleared his throat.

“So, I’m assuming you’ve come bearing good news, Counsellor.”

“One warrant to search the home of Todd Walker – no restrictions.” She smiled.

“Nice to see you’ve not lost your touch.”

At Elliot’s comment, the expression disappeared.

“Well, it looks like you’ve all got work to be doing. I’ll be in my office if any further legal assistance is required.”

Turning back toward the exit, she briefly caught the eye of the only detective in the room with whom she had not yet spoken. The tired whir and click of the overhead fan seemed magnified in the sudden silence.

She paused, as if bracing herself, before nodding curtly. “Olivia.”

As the doors swung closed behind her, Cragen watched. The look on his face suggested he was suddenly reconsidering his earlier assertion to the District Attorney that this particular course of action was somehow the right move for all involved.

~~~

“Liv. You okay?”

After Cabot’s abrupt departure, Elliot noted rather bitterly, Cragen, Munch and Fin had all been hastier than usual in their retreat, meaning that, once again, he and Olivia were glaringly alone. In more normal circumstances, he would at least have given his partner time to brood in silence over something so inherently personal. But it was clear to all involved, that what had just transpired did not qualify as normal circumstances.

Although not one to discuss her feelings freely, normal circumstances certainly did not involve Olivia Benson sitting mutely in the presence of her partner and anyone else who happened to walk in, looking as if she’d just been hit by a train.

“Liv?”

Olivia’s head jolted up, and Elliot was shocked to see she’d made no attempt to mask the pain in her features. In an uncharacteristic display of understanding he allowed his hand to rest briefly on the back of her neck, squeezing gently, before lowering it to rest on her desk chair.

“I’ll go wait in the car, okay?”

A final glance over his shoulder saw his partner sitting, unmoving, in the empty bull pen.

~~~

Ducking into the ladies room at the far end of the precinct, Alex secured the flimsy latch on the stall door. She leaned back against the grimy wall, her breath coming out in shaky gasps as she sank slowly to the floor.

**TBC**


	7. Monday 3rd July 2006 3.49pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, Apartment of Todd Walker, Lower East Side, Manhattan**

“Well, I can see why he kept her around.”

Breaking the silence that had prevailed since his partner had slipped into the passenger seat of their Sedan ten long minutes after he’d left her alone in the bull pen, Elliot surveyed the empty apartment before him.

The front door opened immediately into a small living area with a pale threadbare carpet and plain white walls. To the left was a narrow kitchenette area, equipped with a stove, refrigerator and little else. An open door revealed a cramped bathroom and a further door on the right, leading to the lone bedroom. The apartment was old and run down, and smelt slightly stale, yet the Detective was struck by the surprising revelation that, despite the earlier search by their Robbery/ Homicide colleagues, the place was immaculate. The pull-out couch in the centre of the room, which had evidently been used as a makeshift bed, was packed cleanly away, with only a tell-tale blanket and pillow as proof of its recent purpose. To its right stood a cheap shelving unit adorned with a regimented series of what appeared to be notebooks, identical in shape and size, and distinguishable only by colour. The books ran the full length of one shelf, with the remaining two shelves occupied by an impressive collection of novels and works of non-fiction, diverse in subject matter but equally uniform in their display. In the kitchen area, one corner of the work surface was covered with a series of neatly arranged Post-Its, and an unfinished grocery list was tacked onto the refrigerator door. Not an item appeared out of place.

Choosing to ignore his partner’s lack of response, Elliot moved casually over to the bookshelves, absently running a gloved finger along the blank spines of the notebooks. Pulling a book from the middle of the unit and opening it, he spoke without looking up.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say she came back once the coast was clear after Walker’s arrest. Even Robbery-Homicide could’ve found a clue in this collection.”

“Actually, El, I’m not so sure. Take a look at this.”

Initially relieved that his partner was at least talking again, Elliot was slightly surprised to see that she was now standing directly beside him with another notebook from the collection in her hands, a puzzled expression spreading across her face. The pages of the book were filled with the same looped handwriting as the document in his own. Looking back down at the notebook he was holding, he saw that it was almost an exact replica, the only real difference being the dates of the entries.

Taking a quick look at the last page, Olivia placed the book back in its place on the shelf before picking up the one next to it and opening it at the first page. After a brief pause, she held it out for Elliot to see.

“This is weird, right?”

Elliot took a further few seconds to scan the contents before nodding in the affirmative.

Each page of the books was marked clearly with a date, and each ran consecutively to its neighbour. Yet the content was not written, as he had first thought, in the style of a diary. Instead each page contained a detailed list of tasks to be performed that day, ranging from grocery shopping and household tasks, to times and locations across the city. Going back to the first book on the shelf, which was dated eleven months previously to the book he had first opened, Elliot noted that, as the entries progressed, the level of detail given in each entry appeared to increase. Elliot opened a book near the end of the shelf. Its entries bore dates from the month that had just passed, and included a reminder regarding front door keys and that day’s breakfast.

“Wherever she went, she must have taken these with her when the cops searched the place after Walker’s arrest – which makes her obsessive, but clearly not stupid.” He paused. “I mean, not that I’m complaining about the vic doing our job for us, but who keeps a play-by-play of their life like this?”

He looked up at his partner, awaiting a response, but her attention was focused on the first page of the final notebook in their victim’s collection.

“Liv?”

Olivia pulled out a single sheet from the front of the notebook. As she handed it to him, Elliot realised that it was in fact a photograph. Faded and well-worn around the edges, it was also blurry and strangely out of focus. As he took a closer look he saw that the subject of the photograph was a young girl, maybe five years old, with dark hair and brown eyes, sporting the sweatshirt of a baseball team he didn’t recognise, grinning toothily at the camera. She appeared to be standing in front of a river or lake. As he held the picture up to the light for a better view, a shadow caught his eye and he turned the image over to see a large letter “E” in a child’s magic marker scrawl on the back.

He handed the image back to his partner. “Daughter?”

Olivia shrugged.

For a moment Elliot considered a teasing comment about the apparent re-disappearance of verbal communication, but thought better of it. Instead he slipped into the lone bedroom, emerging several minutes later with a photograph of Julie Ericson that had clearly been taken in happier circumstances than the reconstructed image produced by the NYPD earlier that morning.

“Someone really needs to show Robbery-Homicide how to perform a search. This was shoved behind his headboard with a picture of his parents and a couple of, I’m guessing deceased, family pets.”

As he handed the photo to her, she took it with a questioning look.

“What?” He paused, an embarrassed smile flashing briefly across his face. “Hey! Guys can be sentimental too, you know.”

Meeting her eyes, he was irrationally relieved to see a smile turning up the corners of her mouth, and he couldn’t help but mirror the expression.

The moment was broken as he watched Olivia’s gaze drawn toward an unidentified point in the kitchenette, a small frown again creasing her brow. Elliot waited expectantly as he watched his partner take a couple of steps into the area to get a better view.

“Okay, I could be wrong, but I don’t think we need to wait for Melinda to tell us how long she’d been out there.”

His curiosity taking over, Elliot moved so they were again shoulder-to-shoulder. His eyes followed Olivia’s, quickly identifying the object of her focus. A single page of a monthly calendar was pinned to the side of the battered refrigerator. The boldly printed dates held no entries. The only markings were a stark red cross through every date excluding the last box, June 30th.

Elliot shook his head slowly. “Oh, this is definitely weird.” He paused. “Somehow, I don’t think she was counting down the days until Walker would return to her.”

He turned back to his partner. Her expression was curiously neutral. “So, what are you thinking? OCD? Into something she shouldn’t have been? Or just plain paranoid?”

Olivia shrugged.

“At least we can be fairly sure where she spent her last few weeks, and it wasn’t visiting her former roommate in his new luxury accommodation.” She stopped briefly. “I mean, Todd was arrested, what, two months before she died? She never goes to see him once, yet she was pretty happy to keep living in his apartment, despite the fact that the cops could, and it seems _should_ , have shown up here at any time.”

This time, it was Elliot who shrugged. “It’s not like this case was gonna be very high priority, Liv. And besides, didn’t Walker say that she was the one who’d paid the rent? So, technically….”

“Oh, so just ‘cause she had some cash, meant it was ok for her to string along someone who obviously really cared about her?”

Olivia’s shoulders had squared.

Lifting his hands in surrender, Elliot raised a questioning eyebrow at the other detective.

The momentary silence was broken by the reverberating hum of a cell phone. Gratefully reaching into his pocket, Elliot took one last glance at his partner before deftly flicking open the device.

“Stabler.”

~~~

Elliot snapped his phone shut. It took him several seconds to locate his partner. When he did, he suppressed a smirk at the sight of her flat on her stomach, only her ass and legs visibly protruding from under the worn couch.

“Need a hand there, Liv?”

The only response, an exasperated grunt, Elliot moved to stand beside her, lifting the offending piece of furniture with relative ease. Peering down, he could now see the object of her struggle.

Red faced, with a line of sweat forming at her brow, Olivia mumbled something that her partner accepted as “thanks”, as she pulled herself inelegantly to her feet with her free hand.

No longer bothering to hide his amusement, Elliot waited until she’d caught her breath before looking at her expectantly. Relieved to receive only a half-hearted glare in return, he turned his attention to the tattered brown paper bag she held in her hand.

Placing the item on the couch, Olivia’s expression also morphed into curiosity as she peered gingerly into the disintegrating bag. Once convinced that there was nothing rancid in there, she retrieved the contents, laying them out for closer inspection.

“Well, it looks like Walker was right about her not being a secretary.”

Elliot plucked the last item from the bag out of Liv’s hands and held it in front of him. The fabric unfolded to reveal a stained apron with a distinctive badge stitched to the right shoulder.

Stepping forward, Liv reached for the label to take a closer look.

“Premiere Domestics.” She tilted her head toward her partner. “Cleaning company?”

Elliot’s interest was piqued. “Guess so. Wonder why she lied to Walker?”

Olivia shrugged. “Embarrassed, maybe? A step down the career ladder?”

Stabler turned over the uniform in his hands. “Whatever the reason, she sure had a lot of cash lying around for someone with a minimum wage job.”

Liv looked up questioningly.

“Munch.” Elliot nodded in the direction of his cell. “He and Fin just got back from talking to her last super.”

“And?”

“Nothing much.”

Stabler looked up to see that his partner was already halfway across the room. Sighing quietly, he followed. Coming to a halt outside the bathroom, Liv was already rifling methodically through the sole cabinet. Elliot took the brief wave of her hand as a signal for him to continue his recount of the conversation.

“Couple of disputes where she accused him of not fixing things he swore he’d told her were fixed. But other than that, an ideal tenant. Probably didn’t hurt that she paid him six months’ rent in cash upfront.”

“Probably not.” Olivia smiled wryly as she turned back to face him. “So, you still thinking Donna Reed?”

This time it was Elliot’s turn to glare. His partner’s smile transformed into a smirk.

Ignoring the comment, Elliot eyed the pill bottles Olivia now held in each hand.

“Anything good?”

Instantly back in business mode, Olivia studied the labels. After several seconds she looked back up, tossing the first bottle to her partner before shrugging.

Neatly grabbing the bottle out of mid air, Elliot tilted the container in his hand, frowning as he understood the other detective’s response. The drugs were clearly prescription, based on the capped tubs, but the label was grimy and faded. Holding the bottle up to the dim light of the bathroom, Elliot squinted.

“Think Warner’s gonna have to tell us what these are.” He paused, flicking open the cap with his thumb. “But they don’t look like anything I’ve seen on the streets.”

He watched Olivia, who was slowly rotating her own bottle under the weak light bulb. After a moment she stopped, a brief look of triumph on her face.

“But I think we have the name of the doctor who prescribed them.” Without ceremony she tossed the second bottle in Elliot’s direction. “That look like a Dr. Wilkins to you?”

Straining to read the label, Stabler realised that some of the print was indeed visible.

“Not bad eyesight for your age, huh?”

He narrowly avoided the elbow headed in his direction.

A genuine smile now on his face, Elliot caught Liv’s eye.

“Whaddya say we go get these to Warner then pay a visit to Julie Ericson’s last assumed place of employment?”

“Sounds like the first good idea you’ve had all day.”

Before Elliot could react, his partner was out in the hallway, impatiently waiting for him. The smile on his face unconsciously becoming one of relief, he scrambled after her, pulling the door of Todd Walker’s apartment closed behind him.

**TBC**


	8. Monday 3rd July 2006 4.15pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, Premiere Domestics, Lower East Side, Manhattan**

“I just can’t believe it.”

As Olivia watched the former employer of Julie Ericson run his hands through his thinning grey hair there was, once again that day, little doubt in her mind that his emotion was genuine. Looking out of his first floor window onto the grimy industrial street below him, Tommy Marino was the picture of horrified astonishment.

Rubbing his palms on his sweat stained short-sleeved shirt, he pulled on his tie before turning dazedly to the detective standing beside him.

“Murdered?”

Elliot nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving the older man’s face.

“Yes, sir. Three days ago.” He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. “You didn’t find it strange that she hadn’t shown up for work?”

Marino paused, looking briefly down at his scuffed loafers before lifting his chin to survey the cramped office in which they were standing. Olivia followed his gaze taking in the peeling floral wallpaper, singular metal filing cabinet and battered Home Depot desk.

Noting her observation, Marino turned to address her, shrugging as if in apology. Despite the already stifling heat, his face seemed to grow redder.

“Look, it’s not like I run a state of the art operation here. I just assumed she’d quit. Found something better, y’know?”

Pulling the man’s attention back, Elliot frowned. “So, she wasn’t a loyal employee?”

Again, Marino shrugged. “This ain’t exactly anyone’s dream job.”

Elliot persevered. “But she never gave you any trouble?”

Marino sighed. “She did her job, okay? Smart lady, like her, could never really understand why she wanted the gig in the first place. But she did. So who am I to judge, right?”

“How long had she worked here?”

Marino’s attention snapped back to the female detective, his right hand clumsily tugging at his damp shirt.

“Just short of a year, I think.”

“And no-one ever had any problems with her? Co-workers? Customers?”

His hesitation was only brief, but it was enough.

“Mr Marino, did Julie Ericson ever have any problems with anyone in the workplace?”

Marino shifted awkwardly, suddenly finding a mark on the floor next to his right foot fascinating.

“Look, I don’t wanna speak ill of the dead, or nothin’.”

“Mr. Marino.”

He again looked up to meet the detective’s gaze. Olivia nodded encouragingly.

Marino let out a heavier sigh, absently wiping at the line of sweat that had reformed above his brow. His other hand again reaching for his tie, he paused for a moment, before shifting his attention toward Elliot.

“Look, like I said, when she first started working here, I couldn’t understand why she even wanted the job. She seemed real smart. But she didn’t sound like she was from the city, and I figured maybe she was desperate, so I gave her a shot.”

He took another swipe at his forehead.

“She always showed up on time, got her job done, never had any complaints about her, until…”

“Mr. Marino.”

The older man hesitated.

“Look, it started about three months ago. The other girls started bitchin’ that Julie was gettin’ lazy. At first I thought it was just...” He shrugged guiltily, his eyes on the male detective. “Women, y’know? But then I got a couple of complaints from customers. Offices being missed. One guy, she left his doors unlocked. So when she didn’t show up Friday, I just figured she’d finally had enough.”

“You didn’t even try to call her?”

Marino’s posture straightened momentarily before seeming to deflate. This time his eyes showed nothing but sorrow.

“I just thought….. I mean, she might’ve got some people pissed at her, but I can’t think why someone would hurt her. I don’t know why anyone would wanna hurt her.”

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, Lower East Side, Manhattan**

Futilely cranking the air con in the Sedan up to full blast, Elliot watched his partner. The intense heat appeared to have driven all sensible citizens of New York indoors, so the sidewalk was deserted except for the detective relentlessly pacing up and down. Her conversation with Munch was taking longer than Elliot had expected, and from the glares being thrown in the direction of her cell, for Olivia at least, it was not going well. Seemingly oblivious to the shimmering heat visibly rising from the asphalt, Liv, stopped, mid stride, this time she seemed to be biting back a smirk. Alone in the vehicle, Elliot didn’t bother to hold back his own smile at Munch’s efforts to undoubtedly ease some of his partner’s tension left from their earlier unexpected encounter.

Unable to shake the thought, Elliot realised he’d made a decision of his own. Checking Olivia’s attention was still elsewhere, he found himself reaching for his own cell phone, scrolling for a familiar name.    

Hitting the call button, the line rung for several seconds, before the distinctive beep of voicemail kicked in.

Making another snap decision, Elliot paused for only a second before speaking.

“Hi Alex. It’s Sta…. Elliot. I just wanted to check in with you after… Anyway, it was good to see you, Counsellor. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Hearing the telltale click of the door, Elliot quickly ended the call looking over to the see the questioning glance of his partner. She regarded him warily for a second before slipping her own cell back into her pocket and snapping her seatbelt into place.

Elliot secured his own belt and eased into the traffic before attempting to break the silence.

“Munch and Fin find anything useful?”

Olivia shrugged. “They knocked on some doors, talked to the neighbours. An old lady in the apartment across the hall, could barely stop singing her praises about how she’d looked out for her when she first moved in. Her husband had just passed away, and apparently the vic’s second night in Todd’s apartment was spent making a week’s worth of meals for the woman. Another woman on the floor above, whose boyfriend ditched her about four months ago, raved about how ‘awesome’ she’d been helping her take care of her kid ‘cause she worked nights.” She paused, a frown creasing her forehead. “No-one had a bad word to say.”

Elliot scoffed. “And that’s a bad thing?”

Olivia looked thoughtful. “Well, it’s not a New York thing.”

This time it was Elliot’s turn to shrug. “Well, that’s two more people to add to Julie Ericson’s fan club.”

“Three.”

Elliot momentarily took his eyes off the road, turning questioningly to his partner.

“And her boss.” Liv smirked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see it.”

Her partner looked sceptical. “You think he had a…. crush.”

Snorting at his choice of words, Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Big time.” She paused, shaking her head. “Whoever, she was, our vic seemed to have a certain charm.”

“Even if you’re right…” This earned him a glare. “The guy just gave us a DNA swab we didn’t even ask for. That’s not usually a sign of guilt.”

Glancing over to see his partner run a hand through her hair, Elliot wisely stopped.

“I didn’t say I thought he was the perp.” She was gathering pace. “I’m just saying that our vic didn’t seem to have a shortage of people who thought she walked on water.” She paused for a second before turning away from the partner to focus somewhere outside of the vehicle, her voice dropping.

“Makes you wonder what happened when they found out the truth she was only human.”

Noticing the silence that had descended, Liv glanced back at her partner offering him a self-conscious smile.

Relieved to see the expression, Elliot nodded back, his attention seemingly fixed on the road.

“So, what do you make of the photo in the book? Do we think it’s the vic’s daughter?”

There was another silence. But this time Elliot could see that his partner was genuinely considering the answer to his question.

“It fits. Why else would she keep it somewhere she’d see it everyday?” Olivia’s brow furrowed in thought. “I’m guessing she never told Todd, or anyone else in her life these last twelve months.”

Elliot frowned. “Didn’t Walker say that he used to see her watching families when he was working?” He paused. “Maybe something happened to the daughter and she came to the city to start over.”

“Maybe she _did_ something to the daughter.”

At Elliot’s look, Liv raised an eyebrow. “Hey, it’s just a theory.”

Elliot sighed. “The picture looked old. You could barely see the kid. Wonder why she kept that one photo all these years?”

Olivia looked pensive. Once again turning her attention to the passing traffic, it was several moments before she spoke.

“You don’t always get to choose your memories.”

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit.**

Pulling distractedly at his already dishevelled tie, Cragen surveyed his detectives thoughtfully.

“So, let me get this straight. There’s no record of our vic until twelve months ago. She had a phoney social security number, a minimum wage job, that she went to the effort to lie about and enough cash to pay six month’s rent for a kid she just met in a fast food joint.”

Munch raised an eyebrow. “Don’t forget the freaky life log thing she had going on. And I thought _I_ was paranoid.”

“You are.” Fin shrugged. “Well she was thoughtful enough to leave us with a pretty good idea of when she last left her apartment.”

Olivia sighed. “The neighbours were a bust. No one had a bad word to say about her. Sounds like there was some trouble at work. She was screwing up and starting to piss people off. But enough to kill for?”

“Drugs?” Cragen seemed doubtful.

“Pills in the bathroom. Looked prescription but we’ll know more once Warner’s finished with her.” Olivia ran a hand through her hair. “We should probably track down whoever the hell Dr Wilkins is, if he even exists.”

“Well, we know how much doctors just love to talk to us about their patients, dead or otherwise.” Munch grabbed a handful of pencils off the desk he was perched on, breaking one in half, before offering them out to the room. “So, who’s calling Cabot?”

Elliot shot Munch a look. “We probably need to find the doctor first. I can’t imagine Petrowsky, or anyone else, will be feeling particularly charitable when we drag them away from their dinner plans to subpoena a doctor who could be in Nebraska for all we know.”

“I’m just sayin’….” Munch’s response was cut off by the clatter of Olivia’s chair abruptly hitting the desk as she rose quickly to her feet.

“I don’t know about you guys but I could use a caffeine hit right about now.”

Four pairs of eyes watched as she hastily exited the squad room.

Fin exhaled, his eyes automatically drifting to Elliot. “Okay…..”

Stabler shifted in his seat.

Munch released his handful of pencils onto the desk. “So, not awkward at all, then?”

This time it was Cragen’s turn to issue a pointed stare.

“The Ice Queen is well and truly back.” Munch let out a pronounced shiver.

“Maybe she just needs some time to readjust.”

The concern in Cragen’s voice was barely concealed, and Elliot raised his head in his captain’s direction at the comment.

“She has to have come back different.” Fin paused. “Anyone would.” His tone dropped further. ”How’s Liv doing?”

Elliot shrugged noncommittally. “She’s…. Liv. And Alex is…….”

“Apparently not in the mood for a heartfelt reunion show”.

At the three scowls directed at him, Munch sighed. “What? Cabot agreed to take this case, right? She could at least pretend to be happy to see us.”

“I’m guessing not.”

All four heads swung in the direction of Olivia as the door behind them thumped closed. Elliot attempted to catch her eye, if nothing else to ascertain just how much of the conversation she may have heard. But Olivia’s attention seemed fixed on a point somewhere across the other side of the room.

The captain cleared his throat softly, bringing the attention back to the centre of the room.

With a quick shake of her head, as if clearing it, Olivia focussed her attention on Elliot.

“Warner’s ready for us.”

As Stabler scrambled to his feet, he couldn’t help but notice that Olivia’s hands were notably caffeine free. However, before he could process this observation, the impatient voice of his partner travelled from its new location half-way down the corridor.

“You coming?”

As he hurried after her, Cragen’s eyes followed the pair until they were out of sight, allowing the worry to cross his face, before he turned and headed back to the safety of his office.

**TBC**


	9. Monday 3rd July 2006 5.03pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office, 5.03pm.**

Listening to the comforting sound of the last of the pack of eager young attorneys exiting the building to return to their no doubt overly dramatic and complicated lives, Alex allowed herself a sigh of relief. Quiet. Something she never thought she would again be grateful for. Letting the silence drown out any thoughts attempting to creep in, the pen in her hand dropped onto the stack of papers beneath it. Her fingers idly reached for her temples, massaging gently.

“Well, some things you just have to see with your own eyes.”

If George Huang noticed the slight flinch his unannounced entrance has caused, he knew better than to mention it.

“Someone really ought to take down that banner.” Alex’s tone was dry but a genuine smile played across her lips as she raised her head to meet the psychiatrist’s warm gaze. “But I do appreciate you making the trip. I can’t imagine your journey uptown this evening was a pleasant one.”

The doctor leaned casually against the door frame, his head tipping slightly to one side.

“It seemed the least I could do to come by and welcome you home.” George’s voice was even, his observation of the woman in front of him, steady.

“So, was it Branch, or Cragen?” Alex raised a sculpted eyebrow. The action was almost comical, belied only by the slight wavering of the blonde’s voice. This did not go unnoticed.

George smiled, adjusting his stance, his eyes remaining calmly on the woman in front of him. “I can assure you that I am not here in any professional capacity, merely concerned about an old friend who has been through a potentially traumatic experience.”

Alex choked out a laugh. “Now why do I find that hard to believe?”

“You tell me.”

The reply had just enough levity to allow it to pass.

“Ever the shrink”.

George held up his hands in mock surrender. “You were missed, Alex.”

The blonde’s reaction was barely noticeable, but for an instant it was there.

“Yet somehow the wheels of justice continued to turn”. This time the smile behind the words did not quite hold true.

George paused for a moment before responding.

“We both know that’s not what I said, Alex.”

This time the doctor was certain of the flinch he saw on the repeat of her name. His brow furrowed slightly, as if filing the information away.

A beat passing, George’s expression softened further. “You’re looking good, Counsellor.”

“For a dead woman?” Receiving nothing more than a curious look from the man opposite her, Alex glanced down at her hands, realising her pen was once again twirling unsteadily between her thumb and forefinger. As she saw Huang’s gaze follow hers she twisted her features back into a wry smile, consciously moving her hands under the desk, out of sight.

“There’s a lot to be said for a three year vacation.” A small chuckle, this time more genuine escaped her lips. “Although whoever said small town life isn’t so bad, clearly never lived it.”

George responded with a snicker of his own but his words were undoubtedly sincere.

“Well, I know a number of people who are glad to have you back amongst the living. Myself included.”

He watched again as Alex’s shoulders tense, looking across the room before letting out a controlled breath. When she failed to respond to his comment, instead of filling the silence, he simply slipped into the empty chair in front of the desk and waited.

After several moments, blue eyes returned to meet his own. When she spoke he could not help but hear the tiredness in her quiet voice.

“It really is just the one case.” Her eyes retreated back to the safety of the pen.

“For now”. Huang let his own volume mirror Alex’s. “Maybe you just need to take it one day at a time.”

“I was in the WPP, George, not AA.” Blue eyes snapped back up and Huang was both amused and comforted to see the flash of familiar fire behind them. But before he could celebrate the small victory he felt, a lost voice stops him in his tracks.

“What if I can’t do it again, George? What if I can’t be who they need me to be?”

George felt his own words catch in his throat as he watched the carefully constructed mask of the woman in front of him visibly crumbling. Torn between offering what he felt would be empty words of comfort, or something more befitting of his occupation, he instead found himself reaching across the desk for a hand that was swiftly and somewhat apologetically pulled back under the desk. Schooling his expression into one of what he hoped was encouragement, he instead settled on another empathetic smile.

“Your friends missed you, Alex. They might not understand exactly what you’ve been through the last few years, but they know it won’t have been easy for you. No one expects you to be anything but yourself.”

“I’m not sure I remember how.” The words were barely audible but George felt them like a punch to the gut. Moistures welled up momentarily in the blonde’s eyes and she wiped it away almost aggressively. Taking a breath, a self-deprecating smirk played across her features. “It’s ironic really, for someone with a reputation for being as driven and self-possessed as my former self, you’d think I’d remember _m_ e better.”

After a moment she let out a shaky laugh. “Well, this is a pertinent reminder of why I’ve spent the last six months avoiding federally mandated therapy. It’s been a pleasure, as always, Dr Huang.”

“You know where I am if you need me, Alex.” The slight inflection on her name was noted as her eyes gratefully met his.

Feeling intensely the sensation of crossing some invisible boundary that both common sense and his Hippocratic Oath tell him to steer well clear of, George cannot help his parting comment as he rises from his seat.

“Detective Benson must be glad you’re finally home. After all the hours she spent on finding Velez after the Zapata trial, for a moment there we thought we were going to lose her to the dark side.” Glancing over his shoulder at the blonde’s undisguised worry, he smiled kindly before adding, “– the DEA.”

Closing the door gently behind him, to give the Bureau Chief what he believed to be some much needed privacy, George Huang found himself feeling the sudden need to head back to the 1-6.

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, Offices of the New York Medical Examiner, 6.14pm.**

“Hey, doc. What’ve you got for us?”

Warner sighed, stripping off her gloves and abandoning them in a well-placed trash can.

“I’ve been pretty backed up in here today. I think the heat’s making everyone crazy.” She paused briefly, a half smile on her face. “Crazier than normal. But I do have a prelim for you. Full autopsy will probably be tomorrow, but I can tell you now, C.O.D. was pretty easy on this one.”

With practiced ease, the medical examiner pulled on a fresh pair of gloves before signalling for the detectives to follow her over to a gurney on the far side of the room.

Pulling back the sheet she noted, with some regret, that neither detective so much as flinched.

Revealing the now partially covered corpse, Warner waited until the detectives had a clear view before pointing toward their victim. Her tone was all business.

“As soon as the insect activity was cleared, the bruising to her neck was obvious. Her larynx is severely damaged and her hyoid fractured.” Warner paused for a second, lifting the eyelids. “And there’s clear sign of petechial haemorrhaging.”

Olivia took a step back. “She was strangled.”

Melinda nodded, again removing her gloves. “I would say so.”

“And sexual assault?”

The doctor shifted her gaze to Elliot.

“There’s definite bruising and tearing. Looks like it occurred pre-mortem.”

This time it was Olivia who sighed. “So the bastard raped her, and then strangled her. Nice.”

“DNA?” Elliot looked hopeful.

“It looks like your perp was in too much of a hurry in the heat to suit up, so you might get lucky. The temperature and the bugs haven’t helped, but I’m running it anyway. I’ll know by morning.”

“Anything else you can tell us?”

Melinda watched as Olivia absently rolled her shoulders, her neck cracking loudly in the process.

“Sorry, folks. Like I said, I’ll know more tomorrow. You two should get some sleep. I’m guessing you’ve more than earned it.”

As the detectives left the morgue, Warner turned back to her victim, but not before noticing the pointed look thrown at his partner from Stabler at her final comment.

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006** **, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 7.32pm.**

“You know, it might just be a load of doctor B.S. but, I’ve heard studies have shown that sleep can actually be good for you.”

Pushing through the haze that seemed to be clouding her brain, Olivia summoned the energy to throw what she hoped was a fierce glare in the direction of her partner.

Whilst his knowing smirk suggested it might not have had quite the effect she desired, she couldn’t help but return his expression.

Elliot continued, “and you’re not going to believe this but some people even have these things that they call beds. They’re like car seats, but you use them in your apartment, and some people stay in them all night long.”

“El.”

The smirks vanished and both knew that the exhaustion was too clearly evident in Liv’s features to make any further attempt at argument anything but an empty lie.

Instead Olivia opted for what was at least a half-truth, that even if her partner did not believe fully, she hoped would pacify him enough to drop the subject at least for now.

“The last few weeks have just been a lot to take in.” She paused. “You know me, El. Probably better than anyone. You know I just have to work through this, even if you might not always like how I do that.”

Elliot’s expression grew solemn as he took a moment to truly appraise the woman before him. With every molecule of her silently pleading with him to drop the subject, he couldn’t help but articulate at least part of what he knows deep down he can be the only one to say.

“I do know you, Liv.” He took a breath, hoping he could somehow strike the fine balance between kindness, and support, and not getting his balls ripped clean off and handed to him in an evidence bag. “But you have to remember that I’ve lived the last three years by your side. I was there that night. I lost her too. And whilst I’m not going to pretend to understand exactly what all this means to you, to either of you, I do know that I’m worried about _you_ ,” he paused again, the words _both of you_ on his lips, “and I’m pretty sure I have good reason to be.”

His partner remained silent, but the worrying of teeth against her bottom lip told him that she was listening and that he needed to continue.

“I saw you today, Liv. You could barely hold it together. And you can’t carry on like this. If you do, something’s going to give, and…” he swallowed, “that scares me. You know I’ll be there for you, Liv. That’s how we work. But you need to take care of yourself, or…” He trailed off, ducking his head to catch her eye firmly, the implication of what he’d chosen not to say ringing between them. “Okay? Are we good?”

Olivia nodded exhaling shakily, and Elliot knew she’d reached her limit for this particular conversation. For the second time that day he laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“And now I’m going downstairs to grab a sandwich before I pass out. And before you even to bother to fight me on this, I will be bringing you one back, and you will be eating it.”

With a final, and only slightly awkward, pat of his partner’s bicep, Elliot exited the squad room, doing his best to think about the vendor stand awaiting him, and not the wounded figures he’d seen today of two of the strongest and most stubborn women he’d ever known.

~~~

 “Coffee?”

 At the sudden interruption to her thoughts, Olivia startled slightly before looking up from her empty cup to find George Huang watching her carefully.

 “Sorry, I thought you’d left for the night.” Liv gave the psychiatrist a tired smile.

 If the psychiatrist gave any thought to her reaction, it did not show on his face. Instead he simply retrieved the drained mug from her right hand, filling it carefully before placing it back on the counter beside her and finally meeting her eyes.

“I realised I might still be needed here.” He regarded Olivia for a moment longer than she was comfortable with, before cocking his head curiously. “Did I hear that you and Elliot found medication at Julie Ericson’s apartment?”

Suddenly finding herself grateful for what felt like a reprieve, Olivia pulled out a sheet of paper from the file in front of her, handing it to him.

“No offence, Doc, but I’m not sure how much use you’re going to be to us on this one.”

George smiled, his eyes skimming over the information presented by the detective.

“Capoten, that’s a diuretic. And Levatol, that’s a beta blocker.”

Olivia nodded, wondering where the psychiatrist was going.

“And you said Todd Walker mentioned your victim sometimes seemed spaced out, disorientated, right?”

Benson again nodded, her curiosity growing.

“Tell me, when you searched Walker’s apartment, what was it like?”

Elliot chose this moment to re-join his partner, mumbling through a mouthful of bagel, and shoving a fresh sandwich pointedly into his partner’s hands.

“Organised.” He paused. “Freakily organised.”

The doctor’s expression became thoughtful.

“Were there an unusual number of lists, or notes?”

This time, Olivia didn’t hide her curiosity.

“Grocery lists, calendars, appointment books. It looked like she wrote down every damn thing she had to do.”

Huang’s expression saddened perceptibly. “Has Dr Warner completed the full post mortem?”

Elliot swallowed the last mouthful of his meal. “What is it, doc?”

The psychiatrist sighed. “I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure when Melinda performs the full examination, she’s going to discover that Julie Ericson was suffering from a form of vascular dementia.”

A frown creased Olivia’s forehead. “Dementia? She was barely forty.”

Huang sighed. “Early onset dementia. Not as uncommon as you’d like to think. When you talk about the disease, most people think of Alzheimer’s, the elderly, but it can actually occur in people in their forties, and in extreme cases, their thirties. It’s more common in men, but not unheard of for women.” He paused briefly, as if recalling his facts. “Vascular dementia can actually be genetic. It’s physiologically related to high blood pressure and hypertension, which explains your victim’s medication.”

“And you got all this from blood pressure meds and grocery lists?” Elliot was sceptical.

The psychiatrist looked thoughtful.

“One of the most common coping strategies used by people with this form of the disease, especially in its earlier stages, is to write everything down.”

Elliot raised his eyebrows.

Huang’s expression didn’t change.

“Detailing their routines in writing takes the pressure off their memory.” He sighed. “One of the most distressing aspects of dementia can be the frustration it causes in the sufferer, as simple day to day tasks become increasing difficult for them. Not to mention for their loved ones, watching this process. Many sufferers of early onset dementia may have young families, and could’ve been the chief breadwinner before the disease struck. Can you imagine the impact that can have on a family?”

Both detectives remained silent.

George watched them.

“Did you find any personal items? Scrap books? Photographs?”

Olivia raised her eyes to meet his. Her voice was quieter than he was expecting.

“There was one photograph. In the front of her most recent diary. A little girl. She can’t have been more than five or six in the picture.”

The psychiatrist sounded surprised.

“No other photographs, visual reminders?”

Olivia shook her head. “Nothing. Just the lists.” She took in George’s expression. “Why?”

The doctor shrugged. “It’s just often people with this illness are advised to create ‘memory books’ with pictures of family and friends, mementos from their life.”

Elliot grimaced. “Isn’t that kind of like writing your own obituary?”

Huang idly picked up his own empty mug from the counter.

“Some people find it helps, if not for them, then their families. But you’re saying Julie Ericson had nothing from her life prior to the last year?”

“Maybe she didn’t want to remember?”

George studied Olivia. For a moment he looked as if he were about to say something, but stopped. There was a brief pause before he spoke.

“Then why did she go to the trouble of keeping that photograph where she would see it every time she opened the book?”

Huang watched as the detective blinked rapidly for several seconds, before offering her the courtesy of shifting his attention back to her partner, but not before adding softly, “if the memory of someone is so important to you, Liv, you owe it to yourself, and to them, not to give it up without a fight.”

The ensuing silence was broken by the timely shrill of a cell phone. Olivia snatched the object from her belt before flicking it open.  

“Fin? You find anything?”

Not waiting for a response, Benson headed quickly toward the door, but not before casting a final glance over her shoulder toward the psychiatrist, whose contemplative expression followed her across the room.

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, Manhattan District Attorney’s Office, 7.35pm.**

Absently rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck, Alex looked up from her desk, slightly perturbed to realise that it had somehow been well over two hours since the psychiatrist had left her office. Her frustration grew as she looked across at the screen in front of her, noting that the email she had started before her visit from George still contained only the opening line.

As had become her routine for the last two weeks she knew that, whilst she had nothing pressing to do, or at least nothing that could not wait until morning, it would be at least another hour until she would begin the short commute back to her new, and still pretty much empty, apartment. But then given the case that had been caught this morning, it would most likely be at least another hour before….

Stopping herself before she could finish the thought, Alex instead reached for the cell phone lying at the edge of her desk. The tiny envelope in the corner of the screen had been blinking at her for much of the afternoon, and whilst she suspected she lacked both the energy and patience for further interaction that day, it would at least kill some time.

Straightening her spine, to an angle that even her mother would have found befitting, she plucked the phone from its position and quickly dialled through to her messages. The first was from Jessica giving her an update on a pending trial, obviously left whilst she had been pulled downtown earlier in the day. She paused for a minute before sharply hitting “7” to delete the message.

The second was from Arthur, “checking in”, as seemed to be an increasing habit since her return. As she again erased the call, her weariness increased as she realised the timing of the call conveniently coincided with the time she would have been expected to leave the 1-6.

The third message was from a number that looked vaguely familiar, despite its absence from her contact list. Mildly curious, she again lifted the phone to her ear, the colour draining from her face as she listened to the hesitant but oddly compassionate voice coming through the speaker. Sinking back in her chair, when the phone dropped, with a dull thud, to the carpet, the blonde did not react.

**TBC**


	10. Monday 3rd July 2006 8.14pm

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 8.14pm.**

Olivia looked up as she heard the crib doors once again swing open. Since Elliot’s cell had rung 20 minutes earlier and he’d slipped discreetly out of the squad room, she’d been staring intently at the open box containing the haphazard collection of documents and evidence bags that currently made up the Julie Ericson case file. That she was yet to read or examine a single item in the time Detective Stabler had been absent was something of which only she was vaguely aware.

As her partner sluggishly made his way across the room, the 3am start to the day clearly taking its toll, the expression she read on his face was not just tiredness but also apprehension. Pushing her hair roughly back from her eyes she couldn’t help sigh as she spoke.

“Everything okay?”

Elliot, subconsciously mirrored the other detective’s action, his hand sliding through his buzz cut, causing Liv’s own uneasiness to grow.

“Um, yeah. I just spoke with Cragen. Munch and Fin tracked down Dr Wilkins. Turns out he does exist – and in mid-town no less.”

Liv allowed her brow to furrow in confusion. “That’s good, right?”

Elliot attempted a smile which ended up looking, to Olivia, more like a grimace.

“It should be. But the guy wouldn’t talk without a warrant so Cragen made some calls and….” He trailed off.

“Out with it, El.” The day had been too long for Liv to summon any true exasperation, but it was close enough.

Elliot looked sheepish. The words came out in a rapid mumble but Olivia had little trouble understanding their meaning.

“It turns out Cabot really hasn’t lost her touch whilst she’s been gone. She worked her charm on Donnelly, who, from how Cragen tells it wasn’t particularly impressed, but she signed off on it anyway and…” he paused for breath. “Alex is on her way over with the warrant”. He looked quickly at his watch, “now.”

If the circumstances had been different, or he had a death wish, the frozen expression on Liv’s face would have made Elliot laugh out loud.

Instead he settled for another uncomfortable attempt at a smile waiting for a response, any response, from his partner.

After several moments, this came in the form of metal scraping against linoleum as Liv hurriedly scrambled to her feet.

Stepping forward to save the now precariously balancing chair from toppling over, Elliot attempted to catch his partner’s eye as she frantically piled the evidence on the table back into the open box.

“Liv?”

Nothing.

“Olivia!”

As she lifted he head, as if caught off guard, Elliot struggled to hide his reaction to the panicked, almost wild, look on her face.

This time his voice was markedly softer. “Liv.”

She paused her movements. Elliot watched as her features relaxed, but the smile on her lips did not meet her eyes and her tone was a fraction too light.

“You know what, El. I think I’m actually going to take your advice for once and head out for the night.”

Before Stabler could so much as throw a sceptical glance in her direction, the doors to the crib were again forcefully swinging closed. Watching his partner’s hurriedly retreating form, Elliot dropped unceremoniously into the vacant, but still upright, chair. Allowing himself a brief moment of reprieve he sighed, the only remaining audience to his frustration the empty room.

“Well, that went better than last time, I suppose.”

~~~

“Hard at work as always, I see, Detective.”

His head jerking up, Elliot’s eyes blearily attempted to focus on the blonde who had suddenly appeared in front of him. Noting his position, slumped clumsily on a tattered sofa in the corner of the crib, his first thought was to hope that he hadn’t been snoring. However, upon his vision clearing, his second thought became unguarded concern for the woman before him. Discounting her acerbic tone, the lines of tension were written clearly across her face; her arms wrapped around herself despite the clinging humidity.

Dragging his body into a seated position, Elliot forced what, once again that day, he hoped was a gentle smile.

“I’m here to protect and serve, Counsellor.”

Stifling a yawn, he nodded at the empty chair adjacent to him.

Alex hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking across the room and back, as if unable to stand the calm scrutiny of the blue eyes trained unflinchingly upon her.

Seeing his former colleague’s obvious unease, Elliot raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently but refusing to look away. His persistence was rewarded when the lawyer carefully lowered herself into the proffered seat, finally meeting his eyes with a wry smile; her briefcase clutched on her lap.

“Why is it, Detective, that I feel we should be holding this conversation in one of your interrogation rooms?”

Elliot smiled. “Guilty conscience?”

His expression faded as, at his comment, Alex seemed to sink back into herself. Mentally berating himself, he shuffled forward on the couch, twisting his body so his knees were only inches from his companion’s. Gaining no acknowledgement he gingerly reached out, his fingers brushing the lawyer’s hand which now gripped the bag so tightly the knuckles were nearly white.

“Alex?”

Taking a slightly shaky breath, the blonde smiled self-consciously, forcing herself to meet her old acquaintance’s eyes.

Whilst the smile was a little too tremulous, it was at least genuine, for which Elliot was irrationally grateful.

He paused for a second, his head tilting to the side, clearly considering his next words.

“So, being back from the dead is keeping you too busy these days to return a phone call from a concerned friend?” His tone was light, but his eyes probing.

He waited, again watching as the blonde seemed to visibly steel herself. When no response was forthcoming, he reached over again, this time gently squeezing the hand securing the case. When blue eyes met his, he released his hold, settling back in the couch, hoping that the bureau chief understood the intention of the unprecedented contact. He was quickly relieved to witness the gentle slumping of her shoulders and the slight relaxing of her grip.

Suddenly too exhausted to make any attempt at a cutting reply, and inexplicably thankful for the quiet understanding emanating from the often combative man opposite, Alex allowed herself an unsteady breath.

“I’m okay, Elliot.”

This comment elicited a further pause from the detective. After a moment he smirked slightly. However, his voice remained surprisingly gentle.

“I know it’s been a few years, Counsellor. But I don’t think ‘okay’ is hiding in the precinct bathroom, looking like you’re trying not to pass out, after delivering a warrant to a group of people who are all just happy to have you back where you belong.”

Alex felt an unbidden wave of anger swell in her stomach, not, she realised, at Elliot’s words, but at the recognition of the tender tone she knew to be reserved for victims and the irreparably damaged. However as her vitriol rose, it somehow escaped her throat as little more than a choked sob.

After a moment of silence, Elliot sighed. Running both hands roughly through his short hair, he pushed himself abruptly to a standing position. Understanding, despite his mounting frustration, that towering over the seated blonde would do no-one any good, he moved to stand behind the couch, leaning heavily on it. His tense posture belied the weary tenor in which his words came out.

“Dammit, Alex. I get that this can’t be easy for you and I even kind of get why you have this whole Ice Queen 2.0 thing going on. This whole situation is screwed up, and if I was in your place, I don’t know how I’d be handling it right now. But _you_ have to understand that you have people who care about you, who missed you. Who spent almost a year chasing down every lead the Feds threw their way to make sure it was safe for you to _finally_ come home.” He stopped, tiredly. “At least have the fucking courtesy to say more than just ‘hello’ to her.”

Elliot waited, letting his eyes drift shut and mentally preparing himself for the cool wrath which experience told him to expect, and on this occasion probably deserve, from the attorney. It took his weary mind several moments to register the silence.

A stab of guilt shooting through him, he opened his eyes to see the blonde unmoving in front of him her eyes closed, her arms gripping the briefcase forcefully to her.

“Shit. Alex. I’m…..”

“Please, Elliot, don’t.”

It was the defeat in the woman’s tone, and not the interruption itself, Elliot realised that stopped him in his tracks. For a moment he thought the blonde was going to continue, but instead she seemed to sink even further into herself, her eyes again closing as she took an audible breath.

“Alex.”

When she finally looked up at him, Elliot was stunned to see the turbulent emotion in the habitually composed blue eyes. The foreign, almost pleading edge to her voice broke something within him.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

Afraid to respond, conscious that any further sound or movement may shatter the final remnants of composure of this unnervingly fragile version of the formidable Alexandra Cabot, Elliot stayed silent watching as the blonde’s mask slipped visibly back in place.

With an almost appreciative nod, the blonde rose slowly from her seat, slipping a sheet of paper towards him as she stood.

“Here’s your warrant, Detective.”

Pretending, for both their sakes, not to notice the disconcertingly shaky manner in which the Bureau Chief made her exit, Stabler sank back down into the old couch feeling, much to his dismay, like a clueless and insensitive asshole.

~~~

**Monday 3 rd July 2006, 10.04pm, Alexandra Cabot’s apartment**

Alex leant heavily against the cool cream wall of her silent apartment hallway, closing the newly installed front door behind her firmly and absently securing the deadlock and bolts. Slipping off her pumps, she headed into living area, flicking on the lights as she went. Ignoring the steady flash of her answering machine, she removed an open bottle of rich single malt from the antique cabinet next to her, pouring a couple of fingers into a delicate crystal glass before taking a generous sip. As she did so, a photograph fluttered out from the open cupboard, slightly faded and worn around the edges. Welcoming the customary jolt of pain the image of the two smiling women in the picture sent through her chest, she carefully returned the object to its place, closing the door securely.

The glass still in her hand she moved over to the expansive window which the realtor had insisted gave her an enviable view of Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Taking another sip of the warming liquid, Alex knew there was a singular view that she was looking for. Only when she spied the familiar sight of a dark department issue Sedan, a familiar silhouette within it, did she settle wearily on the sofa. Pulling a blanket over her the blonde fell into an uneasy sleep.

**TBC**


	11. Tuesday 4th July 2006 9.12am

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

T **uesday 4 th July 2006, Medical Practice of Dr Wilkins, W 36th Street, 9.12am**

“I wish I could be of more help, Detectives, really. But Ms Ericson had only been a patient of mine for a little over three months.”

Olivia Benson cast a heavy eye over the lanky, but sharply dressed physician sitting at the desk across from them. Although possibly only a handful of years older than Elliot, his greying hair was neatly trimmed and his accent had the slightest twang of a southern drawl long since buried.

She watched as her partner swept a more frustrated, than suspicious look around the room. Despite the less than auspicious surroundings, the building interior was clean and clinical, much like its occupant, and the quick internet search before leaving the precinct confirmed the certificates lining the walls, that Dr Wilkins was a respected professional in his chosen field of expertise.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Detective… Stabler, was it?” Wilkins gaze darted somewhat nervously to the warrant still lying on the table between them. “She made an appointment and showed up here early April.” He swallowed heavily. “She didn’t have any insurance but had enough cash with her to cover the cost of her tests and her prescriptions.” His eyes again flitted to the piece of paper on the desk. “Which was unusual, but neither was it unheard of, nor illegal I may add.”

“Tests?” Liv watched the man curiously.

Wilkins sighed, as if the answer should have been obvious. “When anyone comes in describing the symptoms Ms Ericson did, regardless of age, I’d start by running a standard dementia screening.”

“Even on someone in their early forties?”

Elliot sounded slightly incredulous but Wilkins appeared to take no offense.

“I’m sure your own medical expert has no doubt explained this to you also, but unfortunately the early onset of this particular disease really is not as uncommon as you may think.” He paused again. “And I never rule out the possibility, particularly if someone has gone to the effort to seek out my services, as did the patient in question, Detective.”

Olivia ignored her partner’s scepticism, finding herself genuinely intrigued by the doctor’s tale.

“And the test showed?”

“From both the neurological and physiological symptoms, it seemed like a fairly clear case.” Wilkins sighed. “And from her reaction when I delivered this particular piece of information, I’m guessing the diagnosis was not news.”

“She already knew?”

This had got Stabler’s attention.

The doctors shrugged slightly, as if suddenly nervous about sharing something more insightful than a strictly medical opinion.

“Believe me, Detectives, I’ve been working in this particular area for many years and I like to think I’ve seen the gamut of reactions to this particularly distressing diagnosis, especially for ones so young, but Ms Ericson simply thanked me and asked for the prescription as I believe she was running late for work.”

Olivia sat up straighter on her chair leaning forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees. “How long do you think she had been aware of her condition?”

Wilkins closed his eyes for a moment before looking directly back at her.

“Based on her current…. sorry, um, presentation, I would expect that she would have begun displaying initial symptoms at least two years ago. Possibly more.” He shook his head. “And from the little I saw of her, I would say that she had already started to develop some reasonable coping strategies as her functioning level remained high, all things considered.”

Liv’s brow furrowed. “Did you see her again after that?”

The doctor shook his head in the negative. “I had no need. She was due for a follow-up appointment next month, which she scheduled at the time, and I had no reason to suspect anything was amiss.” He sighed one last time. “Other than… the obvious, I suppose.”

-/-

“Ok, no problem. Thanks anyway, Melinda.”

Olivia slipped her cell back into her pocket, turning her attention back to her partner.

“Warner ran the DNA found on the body through the system but no hits.”

Garnering no reply, she ran a hand absently through her hair, tipping her head back in the direction of the doctor’s office outside which they were now standing. The street was relatively quiet for a mid-week morning with only a few locals going about their business and ignoring the government issue Sedan parked somewhat haphazardly across the sidewalk beside them.

“So, you believe him?”

In response to the question, Stabler pulled absently at his shirt collar. The morning sun was once again beating down without mercy, but Elliot, Liv noticed, looked as if his current agitation stemmed from something more complex. Something that apparently limited his ability for small talk.

“Yeah.”

At Liv’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged semi-apologetically.

“I mean, the guy seems clean, and the vic clearly sought him out for a reason.” He shrugged. “There are enough quacks in this city, but this once seems legit, and the vic apparently seemed to know the kind of medical advice she needed.” He paused. “Do you really think she already knew she was sick?”

Liv sighed, attempting to ignore the unexpected pang of guilt at some of the assumptions she had made about their victim only the previous day.

“I guess it kinda makes sense, right?” At Elliot’s questioning glance, she shrugged. “I mean those books we found at Todd Walker’s apartment go back way longer than three months. And it would explain why she came to New York.”

The expression on her partner’s face changed from intrigued to something unreadable. Liv could hear low alarm bells in the back of her mind warning her to stop talking, but she was suddenly so tired and it was so god damn hot in this city.

“I mean, if you’re disappearing anyway, what better place to pick than New York? I’m guessing she figured that whoever it was who was gonna miss her, kid, husband, whatever, wasn’t gonna come looking for her here.”

“You think she ran when she found out she was sick?”

Elliot genuinely sounded like the idea was a surprise to him and Liv found herself biting back a jibe about “for better or for worse” Catholic family values. Instead she swallowed more heavily than intended before continuing.

“Come on, El. Can you imagine, knowing you’re just gonna wake up one day and not remember where you are, _who_ you are. Would you want to do that to Kathy? Your kids?”

Stabler sighed. “The girl in the picture.”

Olivia smiled sadly. “Whatever good memories she had, she knew she was gonna lose them anyway. Maybe she wanted whoever it was that she cared for to remember her how she was and not how she knew she was gonna end up.”

Elliot took a moment before speaking. “If that’s true, I’m not sure whether that makes her brave or just really selfish.”

Olivia shrugged a little too casually. “Sometimes you gotta know when to just walk away.”

She knew Elliot was watching her closely. His expression was thoughtful but with a barely masked apprehension that was making her uneasy, as his voice remained markedly level.

“It might seem easier at the time, letting people go, but she couldn’t really let go of those relationships, could she?”

This time it was Olivia’s turn to look quizzical.

An oddly gentle smile crossed her partner’s face.

“No matter how determined you are to act like you don’t need those… connections, those people that tie you to a place… to a life, we all need those things even if we don’t always know how to deal with that they mean to us.” He swallowed visibly. “Or us to them.”

The expression on his partner’s face had shifted to cynicism but Elliot had started this, whatever the hell it was he was doing, and it suddenly felt strangely important that he finish it.

“Walker told us that when he first met our vic she seemed sad, watching families, and look at the bond she seemed to form with him. She might have left her family but she couldn’t honestly give up those feelings that would’ve been important to her.” He could feel his tone involuntarily soften further still. “But then there can’t be many things tougher than feeling like you have to give up your memories and start your life over….”

The warning bell in Olivia’s head from moments ago was suddenly a siren. Her stance shifted as she folded her arms across her chest. However, her partner either did not heed the warning sign or did not appear to care as he levelled at her a calm yet pointed stare.

“…. Whether you make that choice to protect the people you care about, or whether that choice is taken out of your hands.” The glimmer in his blue eyes belied the undertone of trepidation in his words. “And maybe it’s even harder to then come back to those memories and try to fit back into a life that you gave up, that went on without you.”

“I don’t know, _El_. Some people make it seem easy enough.”

Exhaling measuredly, Olivia turned, squaring up to her partner who reflexively took a step back. His expression however, remained steadfast.

“That’s not entirely fair, Liv.”

At the response, Olivia turned with a barely contained snarl.

“You wanna talk about fair? Really?” Her eyes flashed with unchecked anger. “Tell me, what about this whole god damn situation has ever been fair?”

At the unfiltered expression behind the words, Elliot’s mind flashed involuntarily to the stoic pain which had emanated from the now not so veiled actual subject of this unplanned, and most probably unwise conversation, only the previous evening. Feeling the familiar jolt of sympathy, he once again stepped closer to his partner, stopping short of physically reaching out to her.

“She came back, Liv. She came home.”

“And what good has that done?” The fight was draining from Olivia as quickly as it had ignited. “Where has that gotten anyone?”

Elliot watched as she seemed to visibly deflate, her broad shoulders shrinking in on themselves. Yet the defeat in her posture was at odds with the barely contained emotion he could feel brimming beneath her quiet words.

“All it’s done is made things worse.”

Olivia took a shuddering breath before raising her head to meet her partner’s eyes. The exposed hurt in her expression causing his chest to ache in empathy.

“It was so easy to just make my life about waiting, El.” She inhaled again. “Waiting for Velez to get caught. Waiting for the Marshalls. Waiting for her to come home.” A melancholy smile crossed her face. “And you know as shitty and as hard as that was, it was ok. It was ok because I just had this hope that one day she’d be back and everything would get back to normal. Whatever the hell that was.” She shrugged self-consciously. “But that hope, it made everything ok.” Her expression changed, the last remnants of the smile vanishing. “So now what do I have?” Her eyes once again sought out Elliot’s. “And worst of all, it’s my fault. I fucked up.” She swallowed before continuing shakily. “For the first time I let myself believe that, you know, maybe, I could be one of those people who gets to be happy. Who gets that thing they’re looking for.” A bitter laugh escaped. “There’s someone up there laughing at me big time right now, El. I was ok before. I had my job. I had you. I’d never even let myself consider the possibility I wanted more. Or that I could god damn have it. You know me, El. Probably better than anyone. It’s no secret that I have my fair share of bad memories. But you know what, I’d take those bad memories any day over feeling like this.”

She stopped for a moment, her voice dropping to barely a whisper as her gaze fixed on a point somewhere across the street.

“It’s the good memories that’ll kill you.”

Before Elliot could respond, Olivia turned quietly away, opening the door to the Sedan and slipping inside, pausing only to discreetly wipe away the tell-tale moisture they both knew was dripping traitorously down her cheeks.

**TBC…**


	12. Tuesday 4th July 2006 11.38am

 

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Tuesday 4 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 11.38am**

Walking into the bullpen alone, Elliot Stabler took a moment to observe the scene before him. With the exception of a couple of uniformed officers making what looked like idle small talk and waiting for the struggling coffee pot to percolate something on the side of drinkable, everyone in the room appeared hard at work either speaking earnestly on the telephone or gathered in small groups around computers pouring over whatever information or evidence was going to keep them occupied until the end of their shift or most probably a damn sight later. Glancing over to the corner of the room, Elliot could see that his own team, notably Detective Munch was no exception to this as he paused his own intent phone conversation for a moment to wave Stabler, almost animatedly, to his side. With a last look over his shoulder to see if his partner, who upon returning to the precinct had disappeared relatively discreetly into the first floor bathroom, would be ready to join him anytime soon, he sighed quietly before making his way over to his colleague’s cubicle.

“Well, thank you for contacting us ma’am.” The older detective paused, rolling his eyes slightly, largely, Elliot felt, for his benefit. “That’s been extremely helpful, and one of our officers will be back in touch if we need to ask you anything further.” There was another break and Elliot could just make out the tinny sound of a female voice coming through the speaker against John’s ear. “You have a good day now too.”

“Witness?” Stabler couldn’t help the enthusiastic lilt to the question.

Munch shrugged. “Sounds more likely than some of the other hundred calls I’ve taken from our resident loons this morning.” He glanced down at the page of scrawled notes in from of him. “Woman says she saw our vic’s picture on the news and recognised her.” He paused again squinting slightly to make sense of the barely legible writing. “Thinks she saw her by the South Ferry Terminal on Thursday night, around seven, heading toward State Street.”

Elliot nodded, for the first time feeling like they had a glimmer of meaningful information. “That fits with the T.O.D. Warner gave us, right? And only a few blocks over from where she was found.”

Munch nodded, his fingers already flying at a pretty remarkable speed over his keyboard. “Not much round there right, or at least not after six.” His hands hovered for a moment, his eyebrows raising before turning in his chair to face Elliot with a smug smile. “Except, that is, a small Catholic Church on the corner which just so happens to donate a room twice a week to a support group for Alzheimer’s sufferers and their families.” At Stabler’s impressed expression, he shrugged once more. “And guess when one of their meeting days is.”

**Tuesday 4 th July 2006, Our Lady of the Rosary, Lower Manhattan, 1.17pm**

Pulling the Sedan into a convenient space outside the deserted looking church, Elliot waited a moment as the old engine spluttered lazily before shutting down, as sick and tired of the heat, it seemed, as he felt. The dispatch radio crackled absently in the background, a welcome relief from the silence that otherwise permeated the vehicle. Glancing not so subtly over at its other occupant, he felt the tension in his shoulders rise another notch on noting the persistence of the blank expression that had adorned her face since she had finally joined him in the vehicle at the precinct. The expression had shifted slightly upon taking in Munch’s brief but _almost_ entertaining bragging summary of his discovery, but not enough to stop even the emotionally obtuse older detective from flashing him a questioning look which he had thankfully batted off with a shake of the head and warning raise of the eyebrows. However, sitting here in the stifling NYPD issue car, Elliot was quickly realising he would take a pissed and venting Olivia Benson any day over this defeated and… sad version of his usually fearsome partner. Before the suffocating feeling fully took hold, he forcefully pushed open the door, pausing only to verbally nudge his partner who continued to stare blindly out of the window.

“Liv. You coming?”

Shaken out of her haze, Olivia hauled herself out of the vehicle after her partner, barely even noticing the trickle of sweat trailing down her spine under her shirt as she shucked it away from the cheap fabric seat. Her lower lip still stung slightly from where it had been gripped between her teeth earlier in a desperate attempt to not lose her shit in the precinct bathroom. However, the earlier urge to drop to the floor and scream… and possibly sob… for reasons she couldn’t even begin to think about right now, had thankfully abated leaving in its place a strange fog in which both her emotions and somehow her thoughts seemed dulled and blessedly out of reach. The only potential threat to her current equilibrium, she was aware, was as usual Elliot. Yet even he, at least for the moment, was graciously pretending that she wasn’t one stray thought away from some kind of emotional meltdown, the likes of which would probably see Cragen putting her on leave faster than you could say ‘psych eval’.

Focusing on taking purposeful strides she was soon by Stabler’s side outside the old wooden door of the church. The paint was peeling off the frame in thin strips that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight and the gasoline scented city heat filled the air so strongly that she found herself glancing down at the sidewalk to check the mottled concrete had not begun to melt.

When she looked back up, she could see that Elliot was watching her closely.

Raising his fist to knock he quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Is it just me that finds it strange this guy insisted on meeting us here, and that the diocese can only contact him through a cell phone number?”

Forcing the gears in her brain to turn, Liv was relieved to feel her instincts coming into focus and she shrugged sceptically. However, before she had chance to respond, the heavy door was swinging inward to reveal the lean figure of a blonde man in his early to mid forties, about Elliot’s height but nowhere near his bulk, behind it.

With a careful smile, the man nodded curtly at them. “Detectives Stabler and Benson, I assume.” There was a brief pause as if he was considering his next words, but instead the door simply opened wider. “Follow me.”

Entering first into the dark hallway, Olivia’s eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright downtown day to the dim lamp lit musty church. As she moved further into the room she could sense her partner’s presence behind her, close enough to feel the hot pinpricks of unease radiating from him, and sense the hand she knew was hovering instinctively by his service weapon.

Without warning, they took a sharp turn to the right as another door was pulled open in front of them, light finally streaming into the building.

As their host turned to face them, his wispy shoulder length hair, pulled back into a ratty ponytail swung lazily across his back, and he pointed to a large area with worn plastic chairs spread out to form a haphazard circle.

“Please, take a seat.”

-/-

 

“You say meetings run between seven and nine, Mondays and Thursdays.”

Elliot was perched uncomfortably on the edge of a red plastic chair which Olivia noted he had gradually pulled forward until he was less than two feet away from the other man who had chosen a seat at the far end of the arrangement, by the door. Her partner’s hands were knotted together, his elbows resting awkwardly on splayed knees, but she could see the tell-tale vein pulsing in his neck, indicating that he shared her own currently baseless, yet visceral, dislike of the man to whom they were speaking.

“And, Julie Ericson was a regular member of your group?” His tenor was professional yet friendly.

“Yes, I believe she attended our meetings twice a week for I would say the last six weeks, last Thursday being one of those.”

Olivia watched as long legs clad in threadbare jeans, twitched slightly before crossing at the knee. Looking up she could see pinching in the man’s thin angular face, as his small eyes narrowed, highlighting a faint scar above his right eyebrow that she guessed was the middle aged war wound of a long since grown out piercing.

“Mr Klein…” Elliot began again.

“Daniel, please.” Klein shifted again in his seat, pale arms extending from a faded T-shirt sporting a picture of what looked strangely like a Joni Mitchell album cover, gripping the chair legs briefly before folding loosely across his chest.

“Daniel.” Elliot amended. “How long has the group been running?” His tone was probing but hit the appropriate level of interest to make Klein’s arms unfold and rest on his knees.

“Almost a year.” He levelled Elliot with an even stare. “I have a degree in counselling and I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s eighteen months ago, so it seemed like a good way to give something back to my community. Father Sean has been generous enough to let us use the Church twice a week and I am pleased to say we have helped a number of new attendees over recent months.”

Making his tone more sympathetic still, Elliot smiled as if impressed. “It sounds like you’re doing some good work here, Daniel.” He paused for a moment. “Did Julie share anything with the group? Anything that gave the impression she was in any sort of trouble.”

“You mean apart from the illness that was slowly stripping her of her personality.” Klein’s tone was caustic, but his expression never changed.

Choosing not to rise to the bait, Elliot smiled calmly.

Klein’s face flickered slightly, as if thinking better of his last comment. “I apologise, Detective. But as you can understand, this has been upsetting news.” He sat forward in his chair suggesting an empathy which was difficult to believe. “What Julie shared was sadly no different than many stories I hear in this room.” He cleared this throat. “From what I recall for the first few meetings she said very little, but in recent weeks she had started to open up, talking about how scared she was of the impact the disease would have on her family, but nothing specific I’m afraid, at least not to the larger group.”

Olivia felt her interest pique slightly. “Was there anyone in the group who you believe she may have spoken to more personally about her experiences.”

Klein paused for a beat. “There were a couple of people who she had started talking with before the meetings and possibly once they finished.” He shrugged. “I think a number of those who attend our group find comfort in meeting up outside of this forum, and I take pride in the support networks we create here.”

Elliot opened the notepad that had been lying on his knee. “Do you have contact details for any of these people? Or names?”

Klein inhaled, his tone taking on a more obviously cynical edge.

“I’m sorry, but this is a support meeting, I don’t take roll call and there is no need for anyone to provide any personal details, not even a full name, unless they wish to.”

“But you knew Ms Ericson’s last name when our colleague called you earlier today.” Olivia smiled conspiratorially. “And you seem to treat your role here very professionally so I’m sure you would keep some kind of attendance list, if only to let people know of any unforeseen changes.”

At this, Klein stuttered slightly before a steely demeanour fell across his features.

“Look, people come here because it gives them a private space to share their thoughts and feelings about this terrible disease with people who understand exactly what they’re going through. I don’t believe they would appreciate me sharing their details with the police.”

“Not even to help solve a murder?” Olivia sat upright in her chair somehow managing to give the effect of staring the taller man down.

Klein remained impressively silent.

“And where were you after the group last Thursday night?” His tone still notably measured, Elliot leaned forward so he sat the same height as his partner.

At the question, the other man inhaled slowly, his features becoming sharper still. “Are you suggesting that I am a suspect, Detective?”

Stabler smiled calmly, yet Klein appeared aware of the danger within it. “Not unless I have a reason to, Daniel. We’re simply narrowing down the list of people who may have seen Ms Ericson on the night she died.”

Olivia watched as the man’s spine straightened perceptibly. She forced an encouraging smile to appear across her own face, her voice softening. “Daniel, I know this is….”

A flash of something crossed the man’s features momentarily before he schooled his expression back to impassiveness, if not open hostility. “Let me save you some time here Detectives.” His countenance changed to one of practiced boredom that seemed too young on his lined face with its slightly receding hairline. “After the group, I caught the subway over to the Village, as I do every week to meet a friend at the Old Rabbit Club. They didn’t show… family emergency, but I stayed there past three am when I took the train from West 4th back to Brooklyn.” He smiled disingenuously. “Not that I don’t trust you to do your job, but if the bar staff don’t remember me, I would suggest you check the security footage for the bar or the traffic cameras on Macdougal Street, which will confirm exactly what I am telling you.”

With a heavy sigh, Klein stood abruptly, chair legs squeaking on the faded linoleum. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be, and unless you have a warrant requiring me to disclose any further information to you, if you need to speak to me again, I would appreciate it if you did so through my attorney.”

Accepting that they were going to get nothing else useful out of the man, Olivia followed her partner’s lead, standing and allowing Klein to usher them brusquely out of the room and back into the entranceway, stopping only to remove a tattered card from his pocket, for a downtown law firm and handing it tersely to her partner as they found themselves back outside in the scorching midday heat.

-/-

“So, whaddya think of his story?”

The church door now firmly closed behind them, the two detectives made their way slowly toward the thin slice of shade offered by the Sedan.

Olivia turned contemplatively to her partner as he spoke, trying to pull her thoughts together. “He definitely had the ‘creep’ vibe and was pretty big on his idea of confidentiality.”

Elliot sighed. “Not sure he’s someone I’d go to for support with anything and the guy really did not like being asked where he was Thursday night. Or anything about our vic’s fellow group members”

Liv shrugged. “He’s either guilty, hiding something, or he just really hates cops.”

Fingers absently pulling on his shirt collar, Stabler stuck his other hand in his pocket as he replied. “Well his whereabouts are easy enough to check out, I’ll get one of the uniforms to grab the camera footage and speak to the bar staff. But I really wanna know who’s been going to his group, as it’s the best damn lead we seem to have.”

Liv took another step toward the car, brushing back the stray hair which had fallen across her face. “He does realise, right, that we can just show up at the next meeting?”

In response Elliot smiled more, she noted, than the comment probably required. “Yeah, but fortunately for him the next group isn’t for two days and I wouldn’t be surprised if he uses that contact list he doesn’t keep to change the location, or just tell people not to show up.”

Retrieving his cell from his pocket, Elliot’s smile changed to one of sudden inspiration. “Why don’t we see whether Mr Klein really is the social saviour he claims to be.”

Olivia watched as he slipped around to the other side of the vehicle onto the street, scrolling through his contacts before hitting the call button.

“Munch? It’s Stabler.”

Olivia could not quite make out the response but it was enough for Elliot to roll his eyes heavily before continuing.

“Yeah, I need a favour ok.” There was another pause as the mumble of a response came through the cell, this time causing only a sigh. “I know.” She ignored the brief glance her partner threw in her direction as he spoke. “I need you to run a background check on a Daniel Klein.” There was a further beat. “Yeah, the guy who runs the support group you spoke to this morning, early forties, Brooklyn address, hippy type.” He waited again, listening. “Oh, and can you send someone down to The Rabbit Club in Greenwich Village to pick up their footage for Wednesday night so we can check out an alibi.” This time Elliot bit back a genuine smile at the response. “Yeah, well you didn’t have to just sit with the guy.” There was another pause as Munch finished his predictable commentary. “Call me back when you have the info, ok.”

Hanging up, Elliot watched his partner who was now leaning heavily against the front of the car. Whilst she had seemed focused and… Liv like during their talk with Klein, and their brief discussion just moments before, now once again without a potential perp to interrogate, or theory to debate, she just looked distant and weary. Unsure what to do, but somehow confident that this was not the moment to engage in any further discussion of a remotely personal nature, he came back around the car leaning beside her on the hood, nudging her slightly with his shoulder.

“So, Munch is going to run Klein through the system and see if anything comes up.” His stomach growled conveniently. “Wanna grab lunch whilst we wait?”

With nothing of substance to distract them, Olivia could feel her thoughts receding once more into the comfortable murky haze. Realising she should at least acknowledge Elliot’s question, she momentarily turned her head toward him. However, the care etched across his face made her wish she hadn’t as she again felt the unbidden swell of emotion in her throat, biting it down harshly. Not confident that her voice could form a steady reply, she shook her head for a moment in the negative, before choking out a muted “not hungry.”

Expecting her partner to make a beeline for the hotdog cart on the corner, clearly hoping to capture hungry workers braving the temperatures to take their lunch break in the park, her chest once more tightened as he instead shrugged, his shoulder again brushing against hers. “Ok, we’ll grab something later.”

Settling back down into what at least now felt like a more companionable silence, Elliot was surprised when after only a few moments the cell phone still in his hand buzzed to life as “Munch” flashed across the screen.

“What you got for us?”

Olivia, again shifting her mind gratefully back to the job, watched as a grim smile spread across her partner’s face as he listened to the older detective.

“Thanks, John. Yeah, we’ll see you later.”

As he ended the call, Liv watched him almost expectantly, and he was relieved to again see the flicker of determination in her eyes.

“So?”

Elliot sighed. “Well it looks like your instincts were correct as normal.” He ran a hand through cropped hair. “Klein has no record to speak of but Munch got lucky with a buddy in the domestic violence unit, and it looks like our guy had a brush with them about five years ago.” He slipped his cell back in his pocket. “The charges didn’t stick but the girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend I should say, did manage to get a restraining order out of the deal.” He shrugged. “And it would explain his dislike of us.”

Elliot followed his last comment with a smirk, hoping that his partner would take the bait. But instead he watched as Liv pushed purposefully off the car. “Well, what are we waiting for? We need that list of regulars at the support group.”

Feeling the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Elliot found himself wishing that he’d escaped to pick up food when he had the chance. “You heard the guy, Liv. He’s not going to give us anything willingly and you know we don’t have enough to pick him up. At least not until we can check his alibi which could be tomorrow if they ask for a subpoena.” Roughly wiping the beads of sweat from his face, he watched his partner carefully as he spoke his next words. “I think we’re gonna need some help on this one.”

**Tuesday 4 th July 2006, Office of the District Attorney, 3.42pm**

“That’s great, I appreciate it Brian. And please give my regards to Carol and the kids.”

Letting the phone drop a little too heavily back into its hold, Alex Cabot scanned the office beyond her open door quickly before allowing herself a weary sigh. Any sleep the night before had been fitful at best and she had quite honestly been planning on an uncharacteristically early escape when she had received an unexpected and slightly rushed phone call from Elliot filling her in briefly on the events of the day and asking her to obtain a subpoena for the list of Daniel Klein’s support group membership.

Sensing that any attempt to acquire the favour of a judge for the second summer evening in a row was futile even for her, she had done the next best thing which involved googling the law firm on the card the detectives had been handed, and in a moment of serendipity, discovering that the senior partner, Brian Johnson, was an old classmate whose secretary was more than happy to hand over his cell number on hearing the Alexandra Cabot name. After several minutes of uncomfortable small talk, although for whom it was more awkward, Alex was unsure, she had convinced the man to contact his client and advise him to meet the Detectives at the precinct that evening to “clear up any confusion” from their earlier discussion and “further assist the authorities in their investigations.” That her former acquaintance had been overly keen to ensure Alex would also be present at this interview had been mildly repellent, but she had become somewhat accustomed to the level of curiosity which she now appeared to attract in legal circles, and on this occasion for some reason it felt almost a fair trade.

It had taken only twenty minutes for Brian to call her back to confirm his client could attend a “meeting” at the precinct at five that evening and he looked forward to seeing her there, and as she bit back a yawn whilst quickly clearing the last few stray files off her desk, she did her best not to think too much, or at all, about where, and with whom she would now be spending the next few hours.

Feeling her breath catch momentarily in her throat, she was almost relieved to hear the rhythmic thud of slow yet confident footsteps in the wooden hallway and see the imposing but familiar shadow of District Attorney Arthur Branch appear in her doorway.

“Alexandra. Good afternoon.” Arthur’s drawl was slow and deliberate. However, his tone was friendly and almost jovial.

“Arthur.” Alex nodded curtly, belying the genuine smile that played across her lips at the interruption and interrupter.

Branch returned the smile, noting with a mixture of curiosity and relief, that whilst the woman he had known since she first began her career in his office, looked tired and a little distracted, it was the first occasion following her return on which she had allowed him any glimpse of real humanity, and for that he was disproportionally grateful.

“Heading home for the evening?” His tone was surprised but held no judgement. “In that case, I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

The sentiment behind his added remark was genuine, but he was glad that the younger woman did not question it as he was genuinely unsure what justification he would give for it if pushed. Fortunately he didn’t have to.

“No such luck, I’m afraid.” Alex finally slotted the last of the documents into her briefcase, her blue eyes piercing into him as she looked up. “I have to go down to 1PP to sit in on an interview with an unusually uncooperative witness.” Her smile still looked remarkably real. “No rest for the wicked it would seem.”

“Now that is true.” He returned the expression with a strange degree of affection. “And if I may take the liberty once more, it is truly great to see you back where you belong, Ms Cabot.” The blonde’s smile faltered for a moment before quickly re-establishing itself, this time with a demonstrable degree of effort.

Catching the change, Arthur felt the same unexpected flash of empathy as he had only the previous day, along with the sudden desire to give his junior colleague a moment of privacy. The warm smile still firmly in place, he cleared his throat softly.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Alexandra, I have an impatient gaggle of potential donors waiting for me on the golf course, and I believe you have an impatient team of detectives waiting on their favourite Bureau Chief.”

With a last glance over his shoulder, the District Attorney padded steadily back down the hallway, making sure to pull the door gently closed behind him.

Allowing herself one last pause, Alex closed her eyes before straightening her spine in a manner that would make her mother proud. Taking a deep breath, she plucked her purse from her desk, securing her briefcase tightly under her arm. It was time to go to work.

**TBC…**


	13. Tuesday 4th July 2006, 4.36pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

** All That’s Left You **

 

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Tuesday 4 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 4.36pm**

 

Leaning back slightly in his chair, Elliot observed Daniel Klein with a cool but professional smile.

Since his arrival at the precinct, almost fifteen minutes earlier, the reluctant ‘witness’ had fluctuated between smug, at the appearance of his smartly suited lawyer, who in Stabler’s opinion had seemed way more interested in making awkward small talk with their own blond attorney than his own client, nervous and downright twitchy. Still in the same faded threadbare jeans as earlier, the fair-haired man sat upright in the uncomfortable plastic seating of the smallest interrogation room in the building. To the casual observer he looked fairly relaxed. However, every 30 seconds or so bony fingers would reach out to drum the table top before being quickly snatched back into a tightly clenched fist.

Casting a surreptitious glance to his right, the vibe coming from his partner was a lot of things, but relaxed was not one of them. Leaning slightly over the narrow table between themselves and Klein, her arms were folded menacingly, and the expression on her face was already practically a snarl.

Whilst the body language was most likely a direct result of the faux concern the witness was currently demonstrating about the plight of the poor members of his precious support group, the grimace had been in place since the precise moment Alex Cabot had slipped uncharacteristically quietly into the bullpen, at which point Liv had muttered something unintelligible about making sure the damn room was ready and disappearing into the hallway.

If her behaviour looked odd to any of their colleagues, it was clear that none of them had the cojones to mention it. Yet after issuing brief greetings to the Bureau Chief, his fellow detectives had suddenly found themselves inexplicably busy, leaving Elliot standing awkwardly in the middle of a now empty room with Alex, who seemed worryingly unable to conceal her own discomfort at the turn of events, trying desperately to think of something to say.

 It was with sheer relief that he had turned, when less than a minute later the doors to the bullpen swung open announce the arrival of a sullen Daniel Klein and his unusually jovial lawyer.

-/-

“Detective Benson…” Johnson cleared his throat almost nervously. “I understand that you are keen to determine the perpetrator of this awful crime.” He attempted to seek out Alex through the glass before continuing. “However, let me be clear. Mr Klein is a lawful citizen who is simply trying to give back to his community and protect the privacy of the people who have entrusted him with their troubles. You have no grounds to consider him a suspect and he has agreed to come down here to offer you his assistance, when he is under no obligation, legally, to do so.”

With almost twenty minutes of talking in circles having passed, and the room starting to feel hotter than hell itself, Elliot could feel his own ire starting to rise. But it was his partner, shifting back in the chair next to him, her hands coming to grip the edge of the table, on whom he kept his focus. Watching as the sneer on her face transformed into a smile that he knew from experience too be far more dangerous, he held his breath as Liv’s voice lilted out with false lightness.

“Well, Brian, if your client is so eager to help”, the smile grew, “how about he stop screwing around with police time, impeding an investigation, and just give us the names of the people who attend his little support group.”

Stabler noted with sinking sensation that the knuckles grasping the barrier between his partner and the object of her indignation had turned white.

At this, Klein appeared to stutter slightly before recovering his equilibrium. “Detective Benson,” there was a pause as he swallowed heavily, adam’s apple bobbing shakily in his pale skinny neck, “as I have already explained, I am sure you, in your line of work, understand better than most the importance of the trust people place in you which allows you to do your job.”

Elliot watched, momentarily mesmerised as a trickle of sweat trailed down Klein’s hairline, the droplets settling in an abstract mosaic on the fraying fabric of his worn shirt.

Klein, however, appeared to ignore it with ease.

“The people attending my group have to be confident that their confidentiality is protected or else they will not feel free to share the difficult experiences which have brought them together.” He glanced at his lawyer before attempting to fix his gaze empathetically on Olivia. “You’re not the only one who has a professional oath to uphold, Detective.”

Sensing his partner was hovering perilously close to the edge, Stabler leant forward, his elbows leaning casually on the table, in front of the other detective. His tone filled with as much sympathy as he could muster.

“Mr Klein. I understand your concerns.” He smiled in what he hoped was a slightly more genuine imitation than his partner’s earlier attempt. “However, I can assure you we have no interest in forcing you to disclose the sensitive topics that I’m sure are discussed at your sessions.” He paused for a moment ensuring he had the other man’s full attention. “We just need the names of the people who attended the same group as the victim, as one of those people may know something that could help tell us what happened after she left the church that night.” Stabler held eye contact as Klein shifted in his seat. “Someone on that list might hold the key to finding the person who did this.”

Klein sighed. Elliot was unsure as to whether this meant the gravity of the situation was finally sinking in, or he was simply growing bored of the evening’s drama. Either way it was the first sign of any progress and he was willing to take it.

Keeping his gaze fixed solely on the male detective, Klein appeared to consider his next words carefully.

“Well, Detective, I have already managed to contact one of our members, whom I believe I mentioned to you in our conversation this afternoon. He will be happy to assist you in your investigations, and was most upset when I explained to him the circumstances.” Klein looked inordinately pleased with his contribution.  “My attorney has their contact details and I am sure he will be more than happy to pass these onto you once we are finished here.”

"And the rest of the names?”

Olivia was leaning forward on the edge of her chair, inching closer to Klein before Elliot could respond.

The younger man physically recoiled on instinct, before his façade slipped subtly back into place.

“What happened was unfortunate Detective Benson, but as I have just informed your partner here…”

Elliot was unsure who flinched most visibly as Olivia rose to her feet, her chair scraping angrily on the lino as it was forced out of her path. For a moment he waited for the man’s lawyer to intervene, but one look at Johnson, eyes flitting anxiously between his client and the one-way glass panel in front of him, told him that any attempt at intervention was going to be up to him, unless Cragen or Cabot, who were invariably keeping an eye on proceedings from the other room, were sufficiently concerned to step in.

“Unfortunate? Well that’s one way to describe the brutal rape and murder of a woman who you claim to have been supporting through a terrible illness.”

Klein’s front was already starting to slip but Elliot had the sinking feeling that his partner was only just getting started. Glancing quickly at the brunette next to him, the frustration, and whatever other more complicated emotions had been simmering a little too near the surface since the previous day, suddenly seemed in danger of boiling over. And despite his own personal dislike of the man sitting opposite, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of sympathy for him as Benson inched closer still, leaning menacingly over the table. He made a subtle attempt to place a calming hand on his partner’s arm but the gesture was shrugged off, Olivia too focused on Klein to take heed of any warning.

Liv’s tone was even, measured, but her eyes flashed dangerously as she stared frankly at Klein.

“And by brutal, I mean that after Julie Ericson left your meeting Thursday night, some bastard took a rope, or whatever else he had to hand, put it around her neck and pulled it tight enough that it burst all the blood vessels in her eyes, before her neck finally snapped.” Her tenor dropped and she smiled, pausing briefly. “Can you imagine what that’s like Daniel? Having the life literally squeezed right out of you, gasping for breath, knowing that you’re going to die. Powerless.”

Klein shifted uncomfortably looking first at his attorney, and then, upon receiving no response, at Elliot himself. Olivia’s voice remained measured, but it was clear to all present she was gathering momentum.

“But you know what he did before that? Whilst she was terrified and probably begging for her life, he ripped off her shirt and her pants and he forced himself on her, hard enough to make her bleed, alone in the dark, knowing that this was the way her life is going to end.” She swallowed, the words cracking under the weight of their anger. “But if you want to protect the privacy of that person, Daniel, if you think that’s more important than the rape and violent death of someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s mother or wife, then you go right ahead and be the stand-up guy that you are.” A hand slapped down on the table with a force that made even Stabler jump in his seat. Olivia swallowed again and Elliot caught the glint of moisture in the corner of her eyes. She started to speak again but seemed to change her mind. Giving Klein one last look she shook her head, muttering through gritted teeth. “You know what, screw it. This is a waste of god-damn time.”

All three men watched dazed as the door to the interview room slammed shut in Olivia Benson’s wake.

 -/-

His expression giving nothing away, Don Cragen watched his two detectives through the mirrored glass window before him. Stabler’s shirt was damp around the collar, the veins of his neck protruding angrily in the heat. However, despite the obvious after-effects of the early morning call that had initiated their latest case, he seemed relatively calm. The same unfortunately did not appear true of his partner. Whilst her voice through the tinny mic feeding into the cramped side room seemed calm enough, it was belied by her tight grip on the table and her intense focus on the man on the other side of it, barely aware of Elliot next to her, who appeared to also be watching events unfold with a level of caution. As Olivia rose suddenly to her feet, her face inching closer towards Klein’s, Cragen found himself stepping reflexively closer to the glass barrier that separated them.

Movement to his right, indicated that he was not the only person reacting to the scene playing out before them. If the Bureau Chief’s body language had been tense from the moment she’d first stepped foot back into the 1-6 the previous day, she was now so still he could barely tell she was breathing. Yet she too was now only inches away from the glass. Casting a quick glance, Cragen was almost convinced he saw the barest hint of panic before her features schooled back into their previous passive expression. Her voice, however, sounded unusually tight.

“Don….”

Before he could respond, the door from the bullpen edged open and the cragged face of John Munch appeared in the gap before he slipped inside. Nodding at Alex he shifted his attention briefly to the interview room before turning back to the Captain, whose attention was now torn between the older detective and the potential situation developing on the other side of the glass.

“Just thought you should know, the uniforms just confirmed that this guy’s alibi checked out. Turns out this loser really did spend his evening drinking alone in the Village.” Munch shrugged. “Pity being a pretentious asshole isn’t a crime in itself.” His gaze once again moved to the window, his expression somewhere between concern and amusement. “I see Liv’s on form.” As the door swung closed behind him he glanced quickly in Daniel Klein’s direction. “Poor bastard.”

Turning his attention back to the room, it took Cragen a fraction of a second longer than he liked to realise that the number of occupants within it was now three. The realisation was accompanied by the slamming open of the connecting door to his left as he came face-to-face with his female detective. Olivia was breathing heavily, and appeared to be making no discernible effort to disguise the anger she radiated.

“Detective?”

Cragen’s tone held a hint of warning that he in no way expected to be heeded but felt pertinent all the same. Casting another glance around him, he could see Elliot ushering the witness and his lawyer almost congenially out of the interview room. Alex, he noted was yet to move from her position behind him in the corner of the room.

At his words, Olivia’s gaze which he was aware had been flitting almost wildly around the room, fixed on him with such intensity that he had to stop himself from physically taking a step back. Instead his years of experience took over and he levelled her with a steady expression.

“Everything good?”

Olivia swallowed heavily, distractedly running a hand through her hair, before her attention turned abruptly to a point over the Captain’s shoulder.

“We need a warrant for Klein’s apartment.”

“Excuse me?”

The attorney’s voice had taken on a tone which Cragen could not recall hearing since the blonde had first strode arrogantly into their midst almost a decade ago. However, if his detective had noticed as such, any warning again went ignored.

"We need to search that arrogant bastard’s place. He must have that list somewhere.” Her attention again drifted this time to the now empty room beside them. "It's a counselling group, not fucking AA.”

There was a brief silence and it again took Cragen a moment to realise that a response was being directed at him.

“I’m afraid I would have to advise against that course of action tonight, Captain.”

Cragen turned his attention once again to Alex, who had moved to his side, one hand leaning carefully on the back of the chair now in front of her, the other clenched firmly at her side.

"And why is that, Counsellor?”

The attorney took a breath before responding, her words once again directed only to the Captain.

“For a start, there is no evidence to suggest that Klein is anyway involved in the commission of a crime. In addition, whilst I understand that my return may hold a certain novelty value for a number of members of our judiciary system, their patience will soon wear thin, and I believe three warrants in as many days with very little to show for their generosity may be just that point.”

If Olivia was aware of the intended recipient of the response, she did not appear to care. Her stare again fixed directly on the blonde.

“I don’t give a damn how many judges have their evenings interrupted, our perp may be a member of Klein’s group and we need to know who was there that night. At the very least they may be able to shed some light on who our vic was and who she might’ve left behind wondering what the hell happened to her.”

For the first time in the conversation, Alex’s attention turned to the detective in the room, her tone steely and expressionless.

"Well maybe if you had considered that outcome before you let your temper override your judgement in there just now, you would have obtained that information without the DA’s office needing to step in to save this investigation.”

“Well maybe if the DA’s office could provide us with counsel who give a shit about helping loved ones get some closure…” Olivia paused for a moment, “and bringing a perp to justice.”

Neither woman noticed as Don Cragen slipped quietly out into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him.

_-/-_

“Detective…”

“Detective?” Olivia choked back a humourless laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re back to?”

Liv’s gaze darted around the room as if only just noting the absence of the other occupant. Her hand reached out to the wall beside her taking comfort in the rough sensation of the cheap plaster board beneath her fingers.

“Why are you even here, Alex?”

The earlier adrenalin rush receding, she was frustrated to hear the weariness seeping into her tone. The words leaking heavily into the already airless room. For a moment she felt piercing blue eyes meet her own before she sought out the safety of the now empty interview room.

“Why did you come back? Why now?”

A sudden coolness against the back of her neck alerted her to the fact she was now leaning heavily against the wall, but she realised she was too tired to care how the action may look.

“Did you think you could just waltz back in here. The return of the Ice Queen.” The laugh that escaped was humourless and sounded choked, even to her own ears. “And we’d what? Bow down to your greatness? Welcome you back with open arms as if nothing has changed? I hate to break it to you Counsellor, but life goes on.” She swallowed heavily. “You made your choice. And it clearly wasn’t to stick around. So, guess what, we moved on. You’re not the only ADA in town. And you’re certainly not the best. We don’t need you here, Alex. You can’t just show up to save the day as if the last three years never happened. Are you really that god damn arrogant?”

Despite the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, Liv was irritated to hear the break in her voice. Her stare remained fixed as she steadfastly blinked back the gathering moisture in the corner of her eye. Her next words slipping out softly, any remaining pretence of control abandoned.

“Did it all mean nothing to you? Do you have any idea how I... how we felt when you just took off again after Zapata? After that night.”

Energy now depleted, Olivia sighed, her final words hanging softly in the stifling air, as she shrugged open the battered door.

“I didn't even get to say goodbye.”

Unable to process anything more than the overwhelming need to get the hell away, the detective missed the unsteady gasp emitted in the otherwise silent room, as its remaining occupant grasped blindly for the wall behind before sinking shakily to the floor. 

 -/-

Seeing his partner emerge almost dazedly into the brightly lit bullpen, Elliot found his attention torn between Olivia, barrelling toward the exit as if her life depended on it, and the disconcerting lack of movement from the other room. His unease outweighing his instinct to mind his own damn business, he waited until the bull pen door swung shut with a resounding thud, before pushing himself resignedly to his feet.

Nudging the door open, Stabler’s eyes flitted around the room before locating his target. His pulse skipped momentarily at the jarring image of the blonde lawyer slumped mutely in the corner of the room.  Hesitating for only a moment, he slipped quietly into the room, ignoring the protest of his knees as he silently claimed the spot beside her. Close enough to detect the unsteady rhythm of staccato breaths, but maintaining a careful space between them, the tacky floor pulled against the damp fabric of his well worn suit pants as he twisted uncomfortably to observe the woman next to him.

“Al…”

“Don’t”.

The response was sharp and immediate, and caused Elliot’s brow to furrow in momentary confusion.

“I’m ok.”

The snort that Stabler emitted at the conviction behind the assertion was involuntary and, he suspected, inappropriate. However, the wry smile and glimmer of emotion as intense blue eyes met his own was familiar in a way that caused his breath to catch in his throat as a genuine grin broke free.

“Obviously.” He turned away focusing instead on the grey wall in front of them. “Though this does seem to be turning into some kind of habit.”

“Elliot…” Appearing to reconsider her response, Alex trailed off with a sigh so deep that Elliot felt her exhaustion as if it were his own. The intense wave of empathy he felt in the moment was the only explanation his brain could come up with for the words he heard falling next from his own mouth.

“You know Liv….”

“I’m not sure that’s something I can attest to anymore, Detective.”

The melancholy behind the statement was like a sucker punch. But before Elliot could form a response, the blonde continued quietly.

“What am I doing here?” Alex exhaled softly. “I’m not part of this world anymore”. There was another pause, somehow more painful. “We both know I never really was.”

Elliot attempted again to respond but Alex was on a roll. Her tone becoming distant but almost conversational and Stabler suddenly had the distinct impression his presence had little bearing on the direction of the discussion.

“This is why I didn’t come back before, you know?” She smiled, but the expression held no mirth. “I considered it. Some may say, obsessively, so. Even before the Marshalls would tolerate it as an option.” She swallowed heavily. “But I just couldn’t do it. How could I?”

She sighed again, lost in thought.

“How can you choose to be part of something after you know it could vanish any second? All of it, like it never even happened in the first place.” Her gaze darted around the room, everywhere except toward the silent figure next to her.

“I just couldn’t risk it.” She swallowed, her voice cracking discernibly in the otherwise noiseless room. “Not again.”

The jolt of emotion seemed to bring her back to herself and she shrugged self-deprecatingly.

“But here we are, and it so happens that I had little need to worry about that particular concern.” She smiled sardonically. “At the very least I now have irrefutable proof that my presence here in this squad is neither wanted nor needed. I may be a masochist but despite all evidence to the contrary, I haven’t completely lost my mind.” She raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of their current surroundings. “Not entirely, at least.”

Elliot leaned back to rest against the wall, his head tilting in the blonde’s direction taking his cue to re-enter the conversation. He took his time, considering his response, appraising the woman next to him as he spoke, the gentleness of his tone taking any sting out of his words.

“Maybe not Counsellor, but those years teaching English in Wichita, or raising cattle in Wyoming, or whatever the hell you’ve been doing have definitely destroyed some of those Cabot brain cells along the way.”

Alex looked, for the first time, a genuine challenge in her expression that flooded Stabler with an unexpected sense of relief.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Detective.”

Stabler responded with a raised eyebrow of his own.

“You used to be sharper than this is all I’m saying, Cabot.” He threw out a challenge of his own. “Or at least more convincing.”

Waiting for a biting re-join, instead Stabler was unsettled to see the lawyer bristle for a moment before seemingly deflating. The heat now permeating the room was suffocating and combined with his own gnawing fatigue, Elliot felt any remaining patience, or self-preservation, wear thin. His tone was edged with impatience, yet somehow still kind, if weary.

“We both know you’re not talking about ‘the squad’ here, Alex.” It was his turn to sigh, a hand creeping up to tug ineffectively on his shirt collar. “And if it’s evidence that you’re inclined to go with then it should be obvious that someone both you and I care about, probably more than either of us is comfortable admitting, has not moved on, and is pretty damn bad at hiding that fact.”

Feeling once again the weight of now pensive eyes upon him, Stabler shifted uncomfortably.

“Now, that said, I think we can both agree that this has been a shitty day all round, and it’s about time we both got outta here for the day.”

“Elliot…” The uncertainty was back in Alex’s voice but she held eye contact. Stabler felt himself smirk in response.

“Don’t worry, Cabot. If anyone ever asks, I will swear under oath this little talk never happened.”

Pushing himself heavily to his feet, Elliot couldn’t help the soft smile as he held out his hand to the woman on the floor in front of him.

"Come on Counsellor, I'll drive you home."

**TBC**


	14. Wednesday 5th July 2006, 9.04am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Apartment of Hector Ruiz, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, 9.04am**

The sidewalk already shimmering with heat swirling in the fume laden post rush hour haze, Olivia leaned against the parked Sedan waiting for her partner to extricate himself from the vehicle. After an early morning phone call from Munch it had been decided that having come up empty on Daniel Stein and his anonymous subjects, Benson and Stabler’s best avenue was that of the one group member that the furtive facilitator had disclosed by both name and address. That this information had reached her colleague via Stein’s attorney at some point before seven that morning, suggested their true benefactor was someone with significant sway over the actions of the said lawyer, and that John had been notably vague with the details, only confirmed her suspicions. On speaking with Elliot, Liv had insisted that it would save time for her to meet her partner directly at the location of their witness. This arrangement had nothing to do with a sudden need to avoid the precinct unless absolutely necessary.

As Elliot emerged into the sunlight, Olivia took a better look at the three storey brownstone which housed the first floor apartment of Hector Ruiz. The front yard was neatly kept with honeysuckle climbing the trellis by the front door and yellow roses lining the freshly swept path. A third floor window was open and the sound of children playing and chattering, in what sounded like an eclectic mix of English and possibly French, drifted out into the street below. A young couple, dressed in casual but costly attire, walked along the sidewalk opposite, pushchair in one hand, dog leash attached to a small but equally well kempt terrier type breed in the other. This was a good neighbourhood.

Realising Stabler had now moved past her and was speaking quietly into the intercom, Benson caught up to him just as the door buzzed open to reveal a clean tiled entry way, and the open door of their witness’ apartment, as they followed the man inside.

Hector Ruiz was almost a foot shorter than Elliot, and as far as Olivia could tell, somewhere in his early fifties. His dark hair smartly styled and tinged with only the first hints of grey, he was dressed in a fitted shirt that suggested a surprising amount of muscle surrounding his lean frame and well-fitted jeans that Olivia could only imagine the reaction from her partner’s wife and teenage daughters if he attempted to pull off the same.

Benson was aware of Elliot making perfunctory introductions as she continued to take in their surroundings. On insistence from their host, she sank into the antique looking but surprisingly comfortable arm chair in the airy room that appeared to be the apartment’s main living space. Noting his partner’s experience, Elliot balanced awkwardly on the edge of its twin to her right as Ruiz perched himself neatly on the edge of a paper-lined table, some kind of make-shift desk, opposite.

Whilst he appeared upset rather than nervous, the man’s gaze kept darting intermittently to the closed door visible through a small dining area, which Olivia assumed was the bedroom. However, he followed Liv’s eyes around the room as they noted the striking display of photographs, seemingly dating back to the early 1980s, that adorned the available wall space. Pretty much every picture, Benson realised, centred on Hector, alongside a man slightly further advanced in years. The passage of time within the collage signified not simply by fashion choices and mise-en-scene, but also on the markedly fading health of their older subject.

On seeing the comprehension on Olivia’s face, Ruiz smiled sadly. “That’s Albert.”

His voice was softer than Liv imagined, his accent lilting. “It’s no secret why I attend the support group.” Hector’s eyes again crept over to the closed door. “As long as I can keep him at home, I will do.” He shrugged self-consciously. “But it’s not always easy.”

As if unsure what to say, Elliot cleared his throat. Olivia’s attention remained fixed on Hector with an unexpected tug of empathy.

“I can only imagine.” Olivia shifted to lean forward on the chair, arms resting crossed atop her knees, tone sympathetic. “Did you know Julie Ericsson well?”

The sorrow that flitted across his face seemed genuine as he raised his head to make eye contact with Olivia.

“Maybe as well as anyone in the city, I suppose.” He shrugged again, this time uncomfortably. “I suppose you know by now, that Julie was not her real name.”

At this admission, Stabler’s interest was also piqued and he watched Ruiz with interest. “Did she tell you that?”

Ruiz watched Stabler closely before responding, his expression wistful.

“Not in so many words.” He shrugged. “But I suppose I am something of an expert when it comes to hidden lives.” His eyes flitted once more to the closed door. “It takes one to know one.” He turned his attention back to the female detective. “Albert was in the air force. It was a different time.”

Olivia smiled softly, again feeling the pull of genuine empathy. “I’m very sorry for your situation. I understand this isn’t easy for you.

Ruiz returned the smile. “We’ve had a good life together. This may not be how Albert and I imagined our time together would end, but we had many happy years, and he is not a young man anymore.”

Benson nodded, prompting softly, “unlike Julie?”

Stabler again leaned forward attentively as Ruiz cleared his throat before continuing quietly.

“She only started attending the group a month or so ago, but we got talking after her first meeting and it just kind of went from there.” He swallowed before continuing. “We’d meet for coffee before group and just started talking, about anything really.” Ruiz looked down. “It probably sounds selfish but it was helpful to talk to someone who was going through it themselves.” His eyes met Olivia’s again. “Even on his good days, Alberts…” He trailed off before sighing softly. “Anyway, it must have been maybe a couple of weeks ago, we were talking about family, and something just didn’t add up.” The guilt on Ruiz’s face was clear. “She tried to play it off as her memory, but I knew something wasn’t right, so I suppose I pushed her a little, but she eventually admitted that she was married, with a daughter.” He paused as if gauging the reaction. “A teenager.”

This time it was Elliot who interjected, his expression sombre but sincere.

“Did she tell you anything else?”

Ruiz ran a hand over his face, the tension clear.

“Only that she couldn’t put them through watching her lose herself, so she’d left it all behind.” He winced slightly. “I didn’t react so well.”  At Stabler’s sharp look, he continued hurriedly. “I told her I thought she was selfish.” His expression folded inward. “She didn’t talk to me much after that. I thought I would have time to make it right.” He took a breath.

The sympathy was pouring from Olivia, so Elliot sat back letting his partner do what she undoubtedly did best.

“Did she tell you where her family lived?”

Hector closed his eyes for a moment. “East Coast. A small town in…” His hand again reached up, this time disturbing his well-groomed hair. “… Maine, I think. I’m sorry. She really didn’t tell me a great deal.” He smiled with an unsettling mix of sorrow and irony. “I wish my memory were better.”

-/-

“Looks like we’ve finally caught a break”

The words were mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich and Olivia felt the familiar flash of appreciation for her partner. Instead of suggesting they return to the precinct after they left a notably distressed Ruiz in the air-conditioned sanctity of the apartment building, Stabler had called Munch for an update before the pair headed to the relative shade of a park a few blocks over. It was here that they now sat on a bench in the relative peace of a weekday morning, with only a few young mothers, or possibly nannies, and the odd pigeon for company. The sun was burning down mercilessly, the temperature kicking up a cruel couple of degrees, as it made its inevitable journey to midday. Unable to wait any longer, Elliot was demolishing a bagel from an upscale looking vendor across the street. Just watching him made Olivia’s stomach shift uncomfortable to the point where she wondered just how many beers she had the night before.

Looping the now empty bag into the trashcan next to him, once more able to focus, Stabler turned to his partner to share the update from Munch and Tutuola’s productive morning. He appeared to think for a moment before quirking his eyebrow.

“It appears Cabot hasn’t lost her touch after all.” At his partner’s slightly rebuked expression, he paused before continuing. “She came through with the warrant for the members of Stein’s group. Munch and Fin are running down the names now, seeing who’s up for volunteering some of their DNA.”

Olivia remained silent, in part wary of where Elliot was heading the conversation, but more pressingly in a sudden need to supress the churning of her stomach and the slight light headedness she was attributing to the alcohol she had felt the need to consume following her outburst the previous evening. Swallowing to get herself back under control she waited a moment before nodding.

Her partner continued. “We should put in some calls to local PDs in Maine and get a picture to them, see if it fits with any missing persons. The husband must’ve filed a report when she just disappeared”

Olivia sighed. “Her family deserve the closure. They’re owed that much.”

“C’mon, Liv.” Frustration was starting to creep into Elliot’s tone. “You’re usually the first person to identify with someone.” He paused once more. “I know Kathy wonders every time I walk out the damn door whether today is gonna be the day our luck runs out.” He caught his partner’s eye, knowingly.  “But she knew the deal when she married a cop.” Elliot sighed quietly. “I can’t even bring myself to think about what it would feel like to know that the people you love are gonna have to watch you slowly vanish until there’s nothing left. I sure as hell don’t know what I’d do.” His eyes met Olivia’s pointedly. “Just think how frightening it must be to have your life taken out of your control, knowing you’re gonna lose your sense of who you are.”

Unable to meet his gaze, Olivia stared hard at the grey concrete beneath her feet.

“It doesn’t excuse just running away, El. Leaving your family behind with no idea if you’re ok, if you’re still alive.” She looked back up, unable to mask the emotion in her expression.  “Without even a goodbye.”

Elliot waited for a moment before replying. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a gentler tone, which confused Olivia for a moment until she felt tell-tale moisture on her cheek.

“Think of it from her point of view, Liv.” He tilted his body to face her more squarely, shoulders almost touching. “Never knowing if today’s the day it’s all gonna vanish. Your whole identity, just gone. Not even recognising yourself in the mirror.” He paused once more. “Would you want someone’s last memories of you, who cared about you, to be of some stranger?”

Olivia’s voice felt tight in her own throat.

“But what about the good memories? Wouldn’t you want to share them with the people you cared about while you still could?”

Elliot appeared to consider her response before replying. However, she had the unsettling feeling that his thoughts on this topic of discussion were better practised than the spontaneous setting suggested.

“Maybe the good memories were just too much. A constant reminder of what you’re gonna lose? I’m not justifying it, but I kinda get why someone might wanna run.”

Olivia obstinately swiped at a stray tear she could feel treacherously threatening to spill over.

“Her family would’ve wanted to be there for her, to spend time with her while they still could.” She swallowed the sudden lump that seemed lodged in her throat. “She took that choice away from them.”

Elliot shifted again, looking at Olivia, before his eyes drifted to a middle aged couple strolling leisurely hand-in-hand down the path toward them. Pushing himself to his feet his shadow momentarily blocked out the sun as it towered over the bench, wavering on the wilting shrubbery behind them.

As Olivia squinted, the change in light momentarily blurring her vision, Elliot met her eyes. His tone was soft, but unable to fully eliminate the sting in his words.

“Not everyone’s good with accepting help, Liv. I think it’s fair to say that you understand that as well as anyone.”

His voice grew quieter still as he turned from his still seated partner toward the exit ahead.

“And like our vic, not everyone’s lucky enough to get a second chance.”

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 1.08pm**

After making her own way to the precinct, once more finding herself in no particular hurry, Olivia entered the bull pen to feel the hum of calm, but none-the-less intense, activity. Cragen was in his office, door shut, usually signifying a visitor of some sort, and a hint for his detectives to steer clear unless otherwise instructed. Elliot was on the phone, presumably to one of the local PDs in Maine. On his computer was the disturbing image of Julie Ericson’s face. He nodded at his partner in acknowledgement before hitting send and waiting for the digital magic that would see the picture rematerialize on the screen of their out-of-state colleague.

As she sank into her own chair, she uncapped a fresh bottle of water sipping cautiously in the hopes of calming the swell of nausea that had now taken up residence in her stomach, the other hand pinching the bridge of her nose where she could feel the beginnings of a headache. Next to her, sighing, Stabler slipped the phone back into the receiver to end the call before picking it back up and stabbing in the next number on the list.

At this Benson turned her attention to the corner of the room where a couple of uniforms were supervising a short line of potential witnesses, all male, as first Fin, then Munch stuck their heads out of the adjacent side room, beckoning in the next man. She waited until Stabler hung up on his current call before catching his eye and heading over to him.

“The support group?”

Elliot nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. Munch figured it would be worth asking the guys to come in, give it some punch, ask a few questions to soften them up and then hit ‘em with the DNA request.”

“Anyone interesting?”

Elliot smirked. “Judging by Munch’s expression, not yet. But I think Fin is still holding out for something useful.”

Her attention drawn by a slight commotion in the corner, Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Well it looks like he may have been right.”

Benson and Stabler watched as a bulky man, possibly in his early sixties with the wide neck of a wrestler, a shock of long white hair and the ruddy complexion of a seasoned drinker, pushed past Tutuola to emerge into the central bullpen. Munch followed the pair out of the room, a knowing smirk firmly in place. As Fin continued to trail after the man, his partner ambled between the desks to join the two observing detectives.

Stabler nodded in the direction of the retreating figures before wryly raising an eyebrow at Munch.

“Made another friend, I see.”

Munch shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charming guy.”

Benson watched until the doors swung back open and a lone Fin returned. As he re-joined the group, she addressed the pair curiously.

“Who was that?”

Tutuola sighed. “Joe Meyer. Lost his wife of forty years six months ago but kept going back to the group. He was real chatty until we asked him for his DNA. Guess you saw the rest.”

“D’ya think he’s our guy?” Stabler looked sceptical.

Munch shrugged. “Well he’s not done himself any favours.”

“Have we got anything to hold him?” Olivia asked carefully.

Fin looked uncertain as Munch seemed to prudently avoid the question, instead looking in the direction of Cragen’s office.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. I think that one is above my pay grade.”

-/-

Olivia looked up from her desk as the door to Cragen’s office opened and the two detectives filtered out. As she turned back to Elliot, who appeared deep in conversation with one of the Maine officers who had called him back almost ten minutes earlier, she was startled to catch out of the corner of her eye a flash of blonde hair following behind the two detectives.

It was at that moment that Stabler again hung up his phone. Swivelling in his chair to update his partner, he instead followed her line of sight to see Munch and Fin approaching their desks, flanked by Cabot and now Cragen.

Feeling the need to ask the question before Olivia had opportunity, Elliot forced a calm expression as he nodded toward the Bureau Chief.

“What’s the verdict, Cabot?”

Alex shifted uncharacteristically to look momentarily at Cragen behind her, belying the cool gaze she then cast around the group as she spoke.

“The fact that Mr Meyer refused to submit to the DNA test, whilst suspicious, is not enough for you to hold him today. Although I understand that you will wish to speak to him further.”

There was a collective nod amongst the group, the outcome unsurprising, yet hesitant glances from all directions were being thrown at Benson as the silence grew.

Trying to temper her irritation, Olivia took a breath, and despite every instinct to the contrary, meeting Alex’s eyes directly.

“Thank you, Counsellor.”

The uncomfortable silence, lingering, Stabler cleared his throat. The resulting enthusiasm in his voice sounding slightly at odds with the subject matter.

“Ok, so we do have some good news.”

He glanced down briefly at the scrawled notes from his previous telephone call, before addressing the squad.

“That was a Detective Corbin from Waterville PD, Maine. It seems that Julie Ericson looks like a match for a missing persons case that’s been open since last summer.” He consulted his paper once more before continuing.

“Jennie Easton, reported missing by her husband Scott and fourteen year old daughter Emma. Went to the mall one morning and never came home. The husband was convinced something had happened to her, but when Corbin looked into it, a number of friends and neighbours reported a change in behaviour over recent months. The husband’s alibi was solid and there was nothing to suggest he was anything but a grieving spouse. Jennie’s phone records showed multiple calls over a number of months to one number, a disposable cell, that they couldn’t… or didn’t track down. Waterville wrote it off as a marriage gone bad and it fell into the depths of their cold cases until our vic’s picture landed in Corbin’s inbox this afternoon.”

Cragen nodded, grimly. “Good work. When will we get confirmation?”

Picking up the remaining papers on his desk, Stabler idly knocked them into a neat stack as he spoke.

“As part of the initial investigation, Corbin got dental records and DNA. He’s sending them over to Warner as we speak. We should have a positive ID tomorrow but I’m gonna go see her personally to see if she can put a rush on it.”

The Captain nodded affirmatively as Elliot stood, tucking in the ends of his shirt which had come loose, pulling it uncomfortably away from his body, before making his exit. Cragen in turn, gave the remaining group one more grunted “good work” as he headed back to his office.

Munch, a lazy smile still in place, nudged his partner indicating in the direction of the door.

“Well, ladies, it’s been a pleasure as always but Tutuola and I have another dozen support group members who are not gonna track themselves down.” He sighed dramatically before practically shoving an unsuspecting Fin toward the door. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends.”

Their safety barrier gone, and with only the casual background chatter seeping through from the edges of the bullpen, Olivia could feel the dense fog of silence closing in, threatening to suffocate her. Her body felt on high alert and despite the fan overhead, when the uncomfortable prickle of sweat on her forehead seemed to spread to her back, she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her. It was of little consolation that Alex appeared just as wary, her posture tense as blue eyes watched cautiously. For a moment Olivia had the strange sensation that she was part of some bizarre nature tableau where it was impossible to tell who was hunter and who was the prey.

“Olivia”

“Alex”

The overlapping introductions made both women startle. Olivia was irritated to feel the rush of heat she knew had made its way to her face, whilst Alex smiled nervously, their eyes meeting.

“I just…”

“Look…”

Stopping once more, Olivia felt a flash of unwanted affection as a genuine but droll smile graced Alex’s lips as she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“You can go first.”

Unable to suppress her own smile, and somehow, more frustratingly, unable to break the now almost comfortable eye contact, Liv nodded. At the sudden realisation that whilst she had clearly intended to say _something_ to the blonde, the _what_ was unclear, she swallowed. Licking dry lips, the hammering of her heart doing nothing for her already pounding head, her brain supplied her only coherent thought.

“I’m sorry.”

Whilst unintended, the unplanned proclamation appeared to have the desired effect as Alex’s expression shifted to one of mild confusion and she remained silent long enough for Olivia to attempt to verbalise her own thoughts in further order.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way yesterday.” She continued to watch Alex carefully. “It was unprofessional and…. unkind, and you didn’t deserve it.”

An unidentifiable emotion appeared to flit across the blonde’s face before she schooled her features back to neutrality. However, her limbs seemed to relax and there was a warmth in her words that was painfully familiar.

“Whilst that is appreciated, there really is no need.” She looked to the floor for a moment before meeting Liv’s eyes squarely. “I should have….”

The sentence was interrupted by a shrilling noise erupting from the cell phone clenched in Alex’s left hand. The blonde glanced at the object, the frustration on her face unfiltered.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia. I have to take this.” She paused for a moment swallowing heavily before meeting Liv’s eyes with a solemnity that almost took Liv’s breath away. “Later?”

Unable to offer anything more, Olivia felt her own head nod numbly, as Alex smiled almost nervously in response. “Later.”

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 5.23pm**

Taking a disgusted sip of the stale coffee that had been sitting on his desk for the last hour, Stabler’s attention was trained on Tutuola recounting the events of his and Munch’s afternoon which had seen them cover more of the city than any sane person could imagine in the still soaring temperatures.

“So that’s all of them?”, Elliot queried, finally giving up and placing the cup of cold liquid down out of his own reach.

Fin nodded. “Yeah. More or less. The rest haven’t attended since our vic started, so not much point but we’ll get the uniforms to run ‘em down tomorrow.”

“And no one looks interesting?” Olivia was also watching Fin closely, her right hand reaching up intermittently to rub her temple.

“Not even faintly entertaining.” Munch joined the group swinging a chair round next to Elliot, taking a sniff of the bitter liquid with disgust, and moving the cup to the desk of an unsuspecting uniformed officer behind him.

Elliot shrugged. “Well Warner should have a formal ID in the morning, but all signs are pointing to Jennie Eason from Waterville, Maine being our vic.”

Across the pen, the door to Cragen’s office was precariously wedged open with a purloined fire extinguisher in a futile attempt to let in some cooler air. As a result, the four detectives had a clear view as he hung up the phone with more effort than necessary, mumbled cursing echoing out to the masses.

With a collective wince, they watched as their Captain slipped out from behind his desk and ventured across the room to join them.

“Everything ok?” Munch looked up casually.

Cragen sighed, pulling at his shirt collar and surveying his squad.

“That was the Lieutenant up at Waterville, PD. Apparently one of his guys jumped the gun and let slip to the Easton family that we may have found Jennie.” The Captain’s frustration was clear in his voice. “The husband and daughter have apparently booked a flight here tomorrow.”

“Well that’s just great.” Tutuola stood, before leaning back against the desk behind him.

Elliot smiled with little humour.

Feeling the familiar flicker of impatience, Olivia also rose to her feet. The action caused her vision to cloud momentarily and she fumbled for a moment before perching, as casually as she could, on Elliot’s desk.

“We need to bring Meyer back in.”

The Captain surveyed his squad once more.

“I agree, Olivia. But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Liv swept a hand through her hair, ignoring the new layer of moisture she could feel forming across her brow.

“El?”

“Cragen’s right, Liv. We have a much better chance of getting something out of him tomorrow. He’ll be wondering when we’re coming.” Elliot pulled fittingly at his damp shirt. “Let him sweat for a night.”

“But…”

“Benson.”

Cragen’s tone left no room for further discussion, as the male detectives feigned a sudden interest in their paperwork. However, the sudden tension was broken by the timely yet unusual sight of the double doors to the bullpen swinging open as a focused Alex marched determinedly toward them. Carrying a Starbucks in one hand and a paper bag in the other, her designer heels clicked furiously against the faux-wooden floor of the entrance, attracting the attention of the entire room.

“Cabot. Is there a problem?” Cragen sounded genuinely confused.

“Don’t worry, Don. I’m not staying.” The confidence in her stride seemed to vanish for a moment, as she stopped in front of Olivia’s desk. Ignoring the fascinated stares of those around her, she set down the coffee cup in front of the female detective before opening the paper bag to produce a bagel. Setting it down next to the beverage, she caught Liv’s gaze, her tone authoritative but strangely gentle.

“You should eat something.”

With complete disregard for the stunned silence of the detectives she left behind, Alex Cabot strode resolutely out of the bull pen.

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Stabler home, Queens, 7.46pm**

Staring at his cell, as if force of will alone would prompt it to ring, Elliot once again tried his partner’s number. As it went to voicemail for the fifth time, he flicked it closed in frustration shoving it back into his pocket. When he had left the precinct a little after six, Olivia had remained silently at her desk almost frantically reading through the statements taken by Munch and Fin earlier in the day, looking for anything that could be even remotely linked to Joe Meyer. Stabler had stuck it out as long as he could but after a third text from his wife asking when he would be home, he had given up, calling it a day. However, now home and having kissed his wife and been grunted at by his teenagers, his thoughts once again strayed to his partner who needed to answer her damn phone.

Unable to settle, and with the nagging feeling that Liv had done something… Liv like, he again picked up his cell dialling the one person, he was suddenly confident, who could help him, providing she answered this time.

“Elliot?”

The voice at the other end sounded distant and off guard.

“Cabot?”

There was a brief pause, followed by faint laugh. “Don’t sound so shocked Detective. You’re the one that called me.”

Second guessing his decision, and beginning to feel a little foolish for panicking when in reality it had been less than two hours since he had last seen the cause of his concern, he paused again.

It was enough for the lawyer’s tone to take on its own air of worry.

“Elliot. Is everything ok?”

Clearing his throat, Elliot tried to keep his voice conversational.

“Yeah, I um, I was just wondering if you’d… If you’d heard from Olivia in the last hour or so.”

It was Alex’s turn to fall silent. In the background Elliot could hear the muffled sound of a glass being placed down followed by shuffling, presumably Alex moving across her apartment.

“She’s not outside.” This awkward pause that followed was broken by a dry laugh from the blonde. “Really, did you think I wouldn’t have called in an unmarked car parked outside my building every night for weeks?” She sniggered. “Even without three years of state enforced paranoia, I’m not an idiot, Detective.” She swallowed nervously. “What’s going on, Elliot?”

Stabler groaned as the realisation of his partner’s likely location hit him.

However, Alex, as normal, was at least one step ahead of him.

“She’s gone to find Meyer.”

“I’ve got this, Cabot.”

Elliot reached distractedly for the car keys grabbing them roughly off their hook in the hallway. He could hear movement through the phone line which sounded suspiciously like Alex doing the same. His speculation was confirmed as the blonde’s voice came back into focus.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Alex. You…”

“I’ll meet you there, Elliot.” The waver in her voice did nothing to decry the steely tone behind it.

Sighing resignedly, Stabler subconsciously patted the firearm now reattached to his belt, in final preparation.

“I’ll text you the address.”

Ending the call he yelled up the staircase as he yanked open the front door.

“Kathy, I’ll be back later.”

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Apartment Block of Joe Meyer, 8.02pm**

Sitting in her stuffy Sedan outside Joe Meyer’s run-down apartment building, in one of the only remaining ungentrified areas of the lower east side, Olivia had the sinking feeling that even by her own standards, this was not one of her best moves. Her head was still pounding, and the earlier nausea had been replaced by ill-timed waves of vertigo when she moved too quickly, or at all. In addition, she had now been sitting outside on the deserted street for over an hour. All the lights on the second floor, where Meyer’s apartment was situated appeared to be off and there was no sign that Meyer was home, or ever intended to be.

About to listen to the voice in her head, that today sounded irritatingly like Elliot, she reached for the key in the ignition when out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar flock of white hair peer cautiously around the corner. The bulky figure looked both ways down the street, for some reason ignoring the parked car directly opposite him, before stabbing at the keypad on the door with a stubby finger. Apparently nervous, the first attempt failed, giving Olivia time to slip quietly out of the car unnoticed. On the second attempt the door beeped, and Meyer tugged it open roughly heading inside without a backward glance. The amateur deed gave Olivia opportunity to slip across the narrow street, shoving a booted foot into the doorway before it fully closed. The sudden movement caused her head to spin frustratingly and she held on to the battered frame for a moment to right herself.

The world coming back into focus, Olivia looked up to find herself standing at the bottom of a dimly lit concrete stairwell. Above her were the sounds of footsteps, as Meyer made his way up to his apartment. Without further consideration, she started up the stairs, in an attempt to catch the suspect before he made it to his apartment. Their comparative sizes clearly working in her favour, Olivia rounded the corner at the top of the first flight to see Meyer now fumbling with his front door key. Hoping to distract him, she reached down to her belt, pulling out her badge and holding it clearly in front of her.

“Mr Meyer. NYPD. I’d like to talk to you.”

Meyer froze, the vein in his neck bulging as his face turned an unhealthy shade of red.

Using his distraction as an opportunity, Olivia strode up another three stairs until there was only a couple of feet between them.

Her eyes trained on Meyer, who had turned to face her, she nodded before lowering her badge to place it back on her belt.

Deciding to take his opportunity, Meyer, with surprising agility, rushed forward, his focus clearly on getting down the stairs and out the door as quickly as possible.

Caught off guard, Olivia stumbled as he pushed forcefully past. Attempting to regain her balance, she reached out blindly, her left hand making painful contact with the rough wall. As her head turned quickly, her vision took that moment to blur and waver, her feet slipping dangerously from under her.

Her last conscious thought was one of frustration, as time appeared to freeze, and she felt herself tumbling backward down the hard grey staircase.

**TBC**


	15. Wednesday 5th July 2006, 8.25pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

  **Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Apartment of Joe Meyer, 8.25pm**

Tapping an anxious rhythm on the wheel, Elliot strained forward in his seat as his car finally rounded the corner onto their suspect’s block. His heart dropped as Meyer’s apartment building stood out sharply in the quiet street. It was the one with the flashing lights of a squad car and ambulance waiting ominously outside. Abandoning his car a few feet behind the commotion, Stabler found himself reaching for his badge as his legs carried him, on auto pilot, to the scene. As he passed the ambulance, he hurriedly noted it was empty, the back doors wide open. Spotting a flash of uniform peering out of an open entrance, he swiftly followed. The hand that reached for the door shook in front of him, a sensation he vaguely recognised as adrenalin, pumping furiously through his system.

Rounding the door, time seemed to slow down as Stabler took in the sight before him. The entry way was surprisingly cool given the humidity still lingering outside. Dim lighting revealed a narrow corridor leading to an equally dark set of steps. A uniformed cop, who looked barely out of high school, hovered uncertainly at the bottom, watching closely as two paramedics, one male, one female crouched in the narrow vestibule a few steps above. The uniformed cop turned, looking mildly alarmed at the unexpected presence behind him, an action quickly mirrored by the two medics. Behind them was Olivia, propped up uncomfortably in the corner of the concrete stairwell.

Her face was pale, a trickle of blood, now dry, ran down her right temple and she was gingerly holding her left arm against her stomach. Though she looked shaken, and worryingly dazed she was still, Elliot realised with a mixture of relief and amusement, able to shoot a deadly glare at the younger paramedic attempting to assess her.

Holding out his badge to reassure the clearly inexperienced officer, and hopefully avoid a friendly fire incident, Elliot’s expression was measured but he couldn’t control the slight break in his voice.

“Liv”

-/-

Stabler stood quietly in the street, watching as the paramedics performed their duties.  After some discussion, and several more glares from his partner, they had deemed it safe to support Olivia to her feet. With some care, and concerningly little resistance, she was guided carefully down the remaining steps and outside to the bus in which she now sat grimly, an ice pack held to her head and a thin blanket draped around her shoulders.

In the short amount of time spent in the hallway, the scene around them had gradually expanded. On realising that the subject of the call had been a fellow cop, a number of nearby fellow officers had, to his partner’s embarrassment, responded and three patrol cars now adorned the street in addition to the ambulance in which Olivia now sat. Despite the flashing lights, which appeared more of an occupational hazard than a sign of any real excitement, the street was quiet, the neighbourhood largely disinterested, or possibly immune, to the activity. The only noise above the constant thrum of city traffic was the low chatter of police radios and of the officers themselves now standing in a small group to one side, enjoying the opportunity for an unplanned break. The only officer seemingly alert was the young cop first on scene, who was now standing in front of the group as if to attention, keenly surveying the street.

The relative calm was shattered as tyres rounded the corner screeching to sudden stop. A door slammed and the stuttering voice of the officer could be faintly heard over the melee. With the squad cars and sudden huddle of officers, Stabler couldn’t see the cause of the commotion, but it’s source soon became clear.

A smile forming, Elliot turned to his partner, noting the grimace of pain on her face shift for a moment as he caught her eye, her expression mirroring his own as they heard a familiar voice ring clearly through the crowd.

“Well, Officer… Oaks. My name is Alexandra Cabot, Bureau Chief with the District Attorney’s Office, and if you fail to let me through right this second, I will ensure you spend the next decade writing up parking violations and filing reports for missing cats.”

Taking pity on the young officer, Elliot was about to call out, when the group parted to reveal a strangely rattled blonde striding breathlessly toward them. Upon spotting Olivia, upright and breathing, her expression shifted perceptibly from panicked to relieved to pissed, before being replaced by its usual mask.

Now face to face with the with the obvious object of her concern, the erudite attorney appeared at an uncharacteristic loss, swallowing heavily, before nodding abruptly.

“Olivia.”

Observing the scene before him, Elliot fought the choking sensation of laughter in his chest threatening to erupt, a reaction he was currently blaming on a combination of the strange emotional vortex of the last two days and the insane heat still permeating the air, even in the fading light of the evening. To his relief, the sudden tension was interrupted by the older of the two medics who had moved to stand beside Olivia, taking the stethoscope from round her neck and moving aside the blanket to place the device over the detective’s breastbone and listening for several seconds. When she was finished she turned, speaking half to Olivia and half to her partner.

“Heart rate normal.”

She moved round so that the stethoscope scope rested between the detective’s shoulder blades, indicating to Olivia to take a deep breath. Benson appeared to hesitate for a moment before following the instruction, a brief wince crossing her face.

“Lungs sound clear.” This time she spoke to Olivia directly. “Good news honey, it looks like you were just winded from the fall.” She smiled, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of reciprocation from the now stone-faced detective. “Bad news, that concussion isn’t going anywhere for a little while, and we need to get your shoulder checked out.”

Benson grunted, shaking her head before appearing to think better of the action.

As the paramedic simply raised a knowing eyebrow, her younger male partner, coughed nervously. “Detective, we really need to take you to the hospital, so you can get checked out properly.”

“I’m fine.” Olivia made a move to stand.

Elliot found himself looking subconsciously toward Alex, who shared a small nod before turning a cool stare toward the now slightly frazzled paramedic and his clearly sager colleague.

“Please ignore the detective. She will be accepting further medical intervention.” Cabot squeezed the car keys still clutched in her hand, clearing her throat. “If you could tell us where you are taking her, her partner and I will meet you at the hospital.”

The older medic nodded at Cabot before turning back to her patient not bothering to disguise the smirk on her face as she pulled the doors toward her.

“Well then I guess we’ll see you at Mount Sinai.”

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Mount Sinai Beth Israel, 9.12pm**

The light from the pen shining unmercifully into her eyes was making Olivia’s already pounding head reach explosion point.

On arrival at the hospital, she had been ushered unusually quickly, based on previous experience, into a private side room. Sometime later, exactly how much later she was disconcertingly unsure, she had been joined by Elliot and then bizarrely Alex, who seemed to be talking in hushed voices which faded in and out as she tried her best to focus on the kindly, yet slightly patronising, grey-haired doctor. The man in question had already poked and prodded painfully at her shoulder before concluding it was badly bruised, a diagnosis she had herself come to without benefit of a medical degree and a six-figure salary.

He was now torturing her slowly whilst talking casually to her partner standing beside him. Her decision to list Elliot as her next of kin, whilst somewhat depressing if she gave the matter too much thought, once again had proved useful.

“She has a mild concussion.” The doctor pocketed the pen turning away from her now she was no longer of interest. “I’d recommend that she stay in overnight, so we can keep an eye on her.”

At this, Olivia pushed through her haze, looking almost desperately in her partner’s direction, shaking her head forcefully, despite the pain the action caused.

Sensing he was fighting a losing battle, the doctor sighed. “Or I can discharge her, but she should really have someone watch her for the next twenty-four hours.”

“She can stay with me.”

The proclamation from the corner of the room took all present by surprise. As Olivia turned her head, more slowly this time, toward it’s blonde source, she was almost certain she heard Elliot laugh before it turned awkwardly into a cough. The doctor, merely relieved that the matter had been resolved quickly, was already relaying a string of instructions to Alex who, Liv idly thought, judging by the dazed look on her own face seemed to have suffered some temporary impairment of her own. She watched numbly as Elliot and Alex exchanged murmured words, his hand resting briefly on the attorney’s arm giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. Too tired to wonder what the hell was happening, Olivia let her eyes drift closed.

-/-

**Wednesday 5 th July 2006, Apartment of Alexandra Cabot, 10.18pm**

Conscious of the strain showing on Olivia’s face and her slightly unsteady gait, Alex casually turned the dimmer switch to ensure the lights in the living area were on their lowest setting, hoping Liv was too distracted to notice her action as she ushered her to the couch. As the detective sat down heavily, Alex knelt in front of her, and without saying a word eased one of the worn boots from her feet. The older woman began to protest but Alex simply raised an eyebrow before efficiently removing the second shoe and placing both in the entrance next to her own discarded pumps.

Smirking slightly, she glanced at the other woman before disappearing for a further moment, materialising with a glass of water in one hand and Tylenol in the other.

“Can I get you anything else?” Alex was relieved that her voice sounded steady, if not slightly impatient.

She watched as Olivia’s eyes glanced slowly around the room, as if trying to take it all in. Suddenly unable to take the silence, her next words slipping out unchecked.

“Olivia, you have a concussion. You’re lucky to not have a major head trauma. I think it’s ok to admit that you’re not feeling great right now.”

-/-

Between the irritation in Alex’s voice and the impassive look on her face, Liv had the sensation that she was being asked to complete a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. She could feel her mind grasping for clues as to what she should do or say, but the room seemed a little too bright, and too warm. Her brain stumbled over the confusing matter that Alex didn’t have to volunteer to bring her home. Yet given that until the previous day, whatever the hell her feelings might be toward the other woman, she’d had a total of one not-so-civil conversation with the attorney in three years, so if nothing else she really didn’t want to bother her.

“I’m ok.”

In truth, all Olivia wanted at that moment was for the pounding in her head to stop long enough for her to sink into merciful oblivion. The world seemed to be tilting at a strange angle, and whilst rationally she was aware that a head injury on top of the recent sleepless nights was not good news, here in Alex’s apartment, with Alex, alone, all she knew was that her control was wavering. One little nudge over the precipice and she could be laughing, or crying hysterically, or possibly both, at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. And head injury or not, she was damned if that was going to happen. She just needed the spinning to stop for a moment, so she could think. Maybe standing would help show Alex that she was fine, and she didn’t need anything from her.

As Olivia pushed herself resolutely to her feet she became fleetingly aware that maybe this hadn’t been her best idea. The floor shifted violently beneath her and a strange blackness played at the edges of her vision. Before she knew it, a surprisingly strong arm was around her shoulder, gently lowering her back down.

“You need to rest.”

This time the voice seemed gentler and, for once, Olivia did as she was told.

She closed her eyes, in the vain hope that the action may at least stop the room from rotating quite so fast. Instead she felt a cool hand resting soothingly against her forehead, as an arm guided her down to a prone position. Part of her brain briefly considered resisting, but she was suddenly too weary and the comfort of the hand combing through her hair was just too distracting. The hand stopped temporarily as she felt a soft blanket being draped over her body, which she abstractedly noted was shaking despite the outside temperature. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips as she felt light fingers gliding over her pounding forehead until the sharp corners of pain began to recede.  An odd feeling of peace invaded Olivia’s fuzzy mind as sleep took hold.

-/-

Alex glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite, feeling a mild embarrassment that, whilst she wished the circumstances had been different, she had happily spent the last hour watching the detective sleep. She instead chose to focus on the only real reason why Olivia had actually agreed to stay at her apartment – that she needed someone to wake her through the night to check for signs of any more serious concussion.

“Liv?”

Mentally steeling herself for the detective to pull away once sentient, Alex watched Olivia’s face carefully for signs of awareness. Seeing none she self-consciously ran the back of her hand down Liv’s cheek and across her forehead, noting with concern that despite the occasional shiver in her slumber, Olivia felt too warm to the touch. Letting her finger trail down Olivia’s jaw, she could see the woman begin to wake.

“Liv, can you open your eyes?”

Olivia stirred, her eyes blinking heavily as she tried to focus.

Realising the look of panic that was beginning to cross the detective’s face as she tried to get her bearings, she consciously steadied her voice.

“It’s ok, Liv. It’s me, Alex. You’re in my apartment. Do you remember what happened?”

Brown eyes focused on blue, as Liv nodded slowly.

Feeling a sliver of relief, Alex smiled softly down at her. She briefly recognised that her hand was still resting on Liv’s hairline, but when no objection was forthcoming, she could not bring herself to move it. As Olivia’s eyes started to flutter closed, Alex did move her hand but only to again stroke Liv’s cheek softly.

“Liv, I know you’re tired, but you need to stay awake for a little while okay, like the doctor said.”

Olivia’s eyes again met hers, and Alex smiled apologetically.

“Can you tell me what day it is?”

The detective’s brow furrowed, her voice was heavy with sleep. “Pretty sure it’s still Wednesday.”

Alex nodded. “Good. And can you tell me what happened tonight?”

This time Olivia grimaced, momentarily closing her eyes again. Her speech was slightly slower than usual, but Alex noted with relief, clear. “Some bastard perp pushed me down a flight of stairs. I busted my head badly enough to need a babysitter, and you got stuck with the job. I’d say it was karma, but I’m honestly not sure whose.”

As Liv finished her little speech, Alex could see the awkwardness flash across her eyes as she seemed to notice, for the first time, their respective positions.

Olivia fidgeted as if to try and push herself up, but Alex’s firm hand on her shoulder, stopped her.

“Not everything has changed, Liv. If I didn’t want to do something, we both know I wouldn’t do it, and I certainly would not _volunteer_ to do it. Now, tell me how you’re feeling, _honestly_ , this time.”

-/-

The alarm on her cell buzzing quietly, Alex jerked awake. The wooden chair in her bedroom may have looked appealing when she saw it in the little antique store in the Village on her first excursion since her return, yet, in practice, it was far from comfortable. It was however, a convenient spot currently, having finally convinced a fevered yet somehow still resistive Olivia a couple of hours earlier that her recovery may be quicker if she would at least sleep in an actual bed rather than on the sofa.

Blearily noting the time, a little after three, she rubbed her eyes for a moment before approaching the bed to carry out the now well practised routine of checking on her charge. Once content that Olivia, whilst still too warm to the touch, was merely sleeping, Alex permitted the yawn that had been threatening during the process to engulf her. Making another snap decision, instead of retreating to the chair, she sat herself carefully next to Olivia on the bed. Taking a moment to feel the uncomfortable kinks in her own spine from her impromptu nap on the chair, Alex allowed herself the brief thought of “screw it”, before pulling the covers over them both and settling down on her side, facing the brunette, her eyes closing. 

-/-

 

**Thursday 6 th July 2006, Apartment of Alexandra Cabot, 5.46am**

Opening her eyes slowly, Alex blinked tiredly, ignoring the familiar burning sensation brought on by lack of sleep. It was now light enough in the room for the wall clock to reliably inform her it was almost six. Through the haze of fatigue, the attorney was almost surprised to feel the shuffling of a warm body beside her. Her heart momentarily racing she forced a calming breath as Olivia mumbled softly in her sleep turning onto her side until she was facing her. She watched as the other woman slipped back into an exhausted sleep, before propping herself up with pillows and grabbing a legal journal to ensure there would be no more disorienting surprises.

After two articles, the antique clock revealed it was now a respectable seven. After checking that Olivia was still sleeping, she slipped into the kitchen to check her messages and make some calls. She first left a message at her office letting them know she would be working at her apartment that morning, and probably the rest of the day, so not to expect her. Her second call was to Cragen who, after listening to her brief but admittedly harried description of the events of the night, informed her in no uncertain terms that he would not be expecting Liv at the precinct for any length of time for the remainder of the week, and somehow making it Alex’s responsibility to ensure this was enforced. Only when Alex ended the call did it occur to her that there had been no qualms in Olivia’s Captain’s mind that the detective would be staying anywhere other than the Bureau Chief’s apartment until she was in a fit state to return to her duties. Filing that thought away for later, she instead turned her attention to the coffee maker, quickly brewing a full pot and downing two cups of the strong black liquid before returning to the bedroom to check on her patient.

Entering the room, she was surprised, but relieved to see Olivia half-sitting up in the bed. However, the relief was short-lived when she looked more closely to see that Liv’s face was flushed, her eyes glassy and unfocused. On noticing Alex’s approach, she shrank back against the headboard.

Instinctively stopping where she stood, Alex felt a rush of anxiety flood through her.

“Liv?”

Hearing her voice, the detective pushed back further against the wall, her eyes darting between Alex and the door.

“You’re not here.” Olivia’s voice was raspy but insistent.

Pondering for a moment whether this was Liv’s nightmare, or somehow her own, Alex fought the sudden urge to prove the woman right by slipping out the door and hiding until this particular episode was over. Instead she squared her shoulders moving slowly toward Liv who was now frozen in place, her knees drawn up to her chest held fiercely in place by tensed arms.

Sliding onto the bed directly in front of her, whilst silently calculating what she would do should Liv decide that the best way to establish her corporeal presence was with a solid right hook, Alex took a breath before reaching over and gently taking Liv’s clenched hands in one of her own. When no act of violence was forthcoming, she shuffled forwards reaching out with her free hand and tenderly cupping Liv’s chin until their eyes met.

“I’m here, Liv. I’m right here.” The break in Alex’s voice as she softly uttered the words came as a surprise to herself.

Maintaining the eye contact, Liv looked bewildered for a moment before Alex heard a deep sob reverberate from the detective’s chest as she fell forward clinging to her as if her life depended on it. Suddenly fighting to maintain her own composure, Alex could feel the other woman’s body shuddering under the weight of her tears. Hoping to whatever deity was out there that, for both their sakes, Liv would awake believing this incident to be nothing more than a particularly cruel fevered dream, Alex wrapped her arms around Olivia, telling herself that the reason she was holding on so tightly was purely for the comfort of the other woman.

Feeling Olivia’s arms across her back slacken and the weight on her shoulder increase, Alex was inordinately relieved to see that, despite the burning heat emanating from her, Liv had somehow fallen back into unconsciousness. With some effort, the blonde managed to resettle her on the bed.

Tearing herself away before her emotions could betray her any further, Alex just about made it to the living room before a strangled cry escaped her own lips and she fought to quell the onslaught of emotions and tears now streaming down her own face.

-/-

Returning to consciousness, Olivia’s first thought was a foggy appreciation for the unfamiliar warmth and softness of the sheets surrounding her. Whilst her brain felt slightly hazy and slow, she was relieved to ascertain that although her head felt heavy and uncomfortable, the throbbing pain had eased and whilst she still felt like she could happily sleep right here for another week or so, her eyes opened.

Liv’s relief quickly turned to panic as she noted the intense sunlight streaming into the room around the edges of the window. A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed her fears. It was close to ten, and she should have been at the precinct at least two hours earlier.

Frantically scanning the room, she caught blue eyes were watching her from across the room. A small smirk played across their owner’s lips as a dry but light voice filled the room.

“Morning, Liv. Oh, and Cragen says he hoped you slept well.”

Slipping into the room, a glass of water in one hand, and phone in the other, Liv was surprised to see Alex drop, with no hesitation, to a seated position on the edge of the bed, only a couple of inches from her. She promptly placed both items on the bedside table and turned her full attention to Olivia. Only when she did so, did a brief look of, what Liv thought may have been _fear_ , flash across her features. But within a second it was gone, and the voice that met the detective was soft and familiar.

“How do you feel?”

Observing the blonde, Liv was mildly amused to note that Alex’s hands were absently fussing with the bed linen making sure she was covered, whilst her eyes scanned Liv’s face closely. A hand distractedly reached to her forehead resting there for a moment. The gesture seemed strangely intimate bringing back for Olivia a disjointed flood of memories from the night before that she couldn’t quite place. And whilst things seemed more confusing in the bright light of day, Liv still found herself relaxing at the touch, closing her eyes, as Alex’s voice washed over her.

“I spoke to Cragen and he wants you to stay home, um here, for the rest of the week.” There was a slight pause. “But I knew that you’d want a chance to take your shot at the perp. They haven’t picked him up yet, by the way, but the uniforms are out looking, so he doesn’t think it’ll be much longer.” The covers were rearranged again.  “Cragen will hold off with the interview until he’s called me, so I can see what you want to do, which he eventually agreed to, as I guess it was easier than arguing with me for any longer.” There was another pause. “Oh, and Elliot called you a few times. I told him you were ok, just sleeping, but you may want to call him before he barges in here to check I’m taking good enough care of you.”

Finally stopping for air, Olivia watched another unreadable expression pass across Alex’s face, as she looked ready to bolt for the door.

Inexplicably feeling the physical distance between them like a loss, Liv patted the bed, hoping that the other woman would heed her request to sit down without argument, as she could already feel her energy waning as her mind tried to absorb not just the lawyer’s barrage of information, but also the lurking meaning she could feel behind it.

When Alex looked at her, the apprehension in her eyes was unmistakeable.

Suddenly at a loss as to what she could say to appropriately convey the thoughts swirling in her head and the unguarded rush of affection for the woman, Liv instead settled for reaching for her own hand out to Alex’s cheek, touching it almost reverently. When Alex finally lifted her eyes to meet Liv’s, the brunette smiled warmly, hoping she could express at least a fraction of what she wanted to say with the simple connection.

“Alex. Thank you.” 

-/-

Whilst seeing Liv awake and coherent lifted the iron weight that had been sitting stubbornly on her chest all morning, the feeling was soon replaced by that of embarrassment at the liberties Olivia would surely recognise she had taken in the name of providing comfort.

Absorbed in her self-recrimination, it took Alex a moment to realise that Olivia was gesturing for her to take a seat next to her on the bed. Gingerly making her way over, unsure as to what reception she would meet, she was astounded to feel a soft hand holding her face urging her to meet brown eyes, thanking her with such sincerity that Alex feared for a second, she might cry.

Instead, she smiled awkwardly at Olivia, whose eyes were already sliding closed again, the energy required to stay open just too great. Taking the hand still on her cheek, she lowered it gently, replacing Liv’s arm under the blankets which she smoothed gently back over the detective. Seeing Olivia trying to protest, her eyes forcing themselves back open, Alex smiled, not attempting to hide the tenderness in the expression, or her voice.

“Liv, if you’re tired, you need to sleep, honey.”

If Olivia was surprised by the foreign term of endearment, she didn’t, to Alex’s relief, show it. Instead her expression was one of irritation, tempered only by the exhaustion evident behind her words.

“I’ve been sleeping for the last twelve hours and I still feel like I was hit by a damn truck.”

Still trying to navigate the new social rules that seemed to exist between the two of them, if only in this room, Alex paused before gently running her hand through Liv’s hair.

“And if it takes another twelve hours, or twelve days, or twelve weeks of sleeping to make sure that you’re okay and you feel better, then I’m going to be right here with you to make that happen.”

Realising the implication of the sentiment that had just spilled from her usually trustworthy lips, Alex froze, hyper aware that cautious brown eyes were now watching her carefully. Conscious it was too late to backtrack, even if she hadn’t inadvertently meant every word, she steadied her voice before continuing softly. Her hand remained steadfastly stroking through Olivia’s hair.

“Look, Liv. I know we have a lot to talk about. And to be entirely honest, I don’t even know where to begin with that conversation, or if I’m ready for it. But I know I want to try, and whilst I may not have made this very clear, I am _so_ sorry for how I’ve handled _everything_ since I came back. I think this goes without saying, but I may not be dealing with my _issues_ as well as I would have preferred. However, I am not completely self-involved, and as much as I have been trying to ignore them, and quite frankly do not fully understand them, I am capable of seeing the consequences of my actions.”

She paused momentarily.

“That said, I suspect that all of those conversations, as necessary as they may be, would be best held when one of us does not have a head injury or a fever. So, on that note, detective, for once please just listen to the evidence in front of you and take care of yourself first. Everything else can, and will, wait.”

Finally taking a full breath, Alex lifted her gaze to look back up at the other woman who was staring at her through tired eyes with a mixture of sorrow and strangely what she almost dared to believe was _hope_.

**TBC…**

 


	16. Thursday 6th July 2006, 12.17pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

**Thursday 6 th July 2006, 12.17pm, Alexandra Cabot’s apartment**

Sitting alone in her living room, an abandoned law journal strewn on the antique coffee table before her, Alex Cabot let out a frustrated groan.

Olivia appeared to have been sleeping soundly since their last conversation ended and with her fever down, and no other outward signs of discomfort, Alex had effectively lost her last excuse to check on her every few minutes as she had spent the better part of the morning doing. At which point she had been forced to admit to herself that her impulse to watch the other woman resting was, for want of a better word, _creepy_ , and she should probably find something else to occupy her time until the detective awoke fully, and her problems got a whole lot bigger.

With the latest judicial decisions failing to hold her attention, Alex’s mind was inevitably drifting dangerously, with the earlier conversation re-playing in an endless loop of confusion and, if she was honest, terror. Whilst she was no longer sure exactly what, or how much, she had said to Olivia, she was fairly certain that whatever boundary of friendship the pair were stubbornly pretending had existed, or could exist again, between them after the events of the last three years, had been irrevocably shattered.

Alex was pulled from her treacherous thoughts by the sound of slow heavy footsteps coming toward her. She looked up to see a pale and worn, but nonetheless awake, Olivia huddled in the thick robe from the bathroom leaning uncertainly against the doorframe.

Rising quickly to her feet, Alex swept over to the other woman, gently taking hold of her elbow with one hand whilst the other hovered protectively behind her back. For a moment she thought Olivia was going to resist, but after a brief pause, she smiled tentatively and allowed herself to be guided to the sofa.

Once both women were comfortably seated, side-by side, Alex watched attentively as the detective pulled the robe tightly around her. Unsure whether the action was a result of a physical chill, or a discomfort more complex and problematic to address, Alex found herself reaching for the other woman’s forehead, resting her hand upon it. Noting, with conflicting emotions, that Liv was no longer feverish, Alex fussed with the collar of the robe before running both hands swiftly up and down Liv’s arms, rubbing heat back into them.

Pausing for a moment, she forced herself to meet Liv’s eyes, before smiling wryly.

“I imagine it’s superfluous to ask how you’re feeling.”

Alex watched with a ballooning relief to see a genuine, if weary, smile play across Olivia’s face.

“Like total crap. But at least I’m awake, right?”

Alex felt her own expression imitate Liv’s.

“If it’s any consolation, it appears a vast improvement on earlier.”

“I’d take that as a compliment, Counsellor, but I think I set the bar pretty low.“

The twinkle in Olivia’s eye, made the some of the earlier tension still swirling in Alex’s stomach dissipate, if only slightly.

“Never that low, Detective.” The rejoinder was out before Alex could temper it.

The older woman started to say something, before pausing, her expression becoming pensive, her eyes focusing anywhere apart from on the woman next to her.

“What is it, Liv?” Alex could feel her anxiety rising once more, as the earlier tentativeness in her voice made a reappearance.

Olivia paused for another moment, her tone suddenly low. “This isn’t how I imagined seeing you again would go.” She focused intently on a dark fleck on the rug in front of her.

Alex found herself lowering her own eyes in response.

“You really thought about that?” The vulnerability in the words jarring, even to herself.

Liv’s head jolted up, the disbelief clear on her face. “How can you even….”

“I’ve missed three years, Liv.” The blonde’s voice cracked painfully as eyes studied the swirling pattern of the polished oak beneath her feet, a feature she pondered, she had once considered essential. “Three whole years. For all I know….”

“Al.” Olivia’s voice was gentler than her words suggested. “You chose to stay away since you got back. That’s on you. What else was I meant to take from that?” She shrugged. “I assumed that you didn’t care.” She swallowed, tentatively seeking out eye contact. “That it never meant to you what it meant…”

“I never stopped caring.” The interruption was sharp.

Alex again looked down, feeling traitorous words rising in her throat but being unable to swallow them any longer.

“As perverse as this may sound given my recent actions...” She paused, swallowing. “Suffice it to say, whilst I’m not, in any way, sorry that you are here in my apartment, I do wish that the circumstances of you being here were different, and if nothing else, please believe me when I say that of all the priorities you may think I have in my life right now, your well-being is the _only_ thing I can honestly say that I give a damn about.”

Exhaling heavily, Alex knew that she would at some point have to look up and face the ramifications of her unplanned acknowledgement, of… whatever the hell that had been.  But her heart was now hammering uncomfortably and in the last few years she had become well enough attuned to her body’s physiological responses to recognise that the tightening in her chest and sudden clamminess of her palms meant that any opportunity she may have had to calmly excuse herself from the room to collect herself in private had passed.

Shutting her eyes and trying with little success to regulate her breathing, in the vain hope that she could at least escape the indignity of a full blown anxiety attack, in front of Olivia, Alex felt the all too familiar sensation of the room closing in on her, resigning herself to the panic.

She was suddenly surprised to find that the pressure in her chest was easing and her heart was no longer thumping deafeningly in her ears. As her senses filtered back, she could feel a warm hand gently holding hers, the other reassuringly on her back. Taking a couple of gasping breaths, she was surprised to feel her hand being lifted and pressed against a solid heartbeat, as she was gently encouraged to breath in time with its steady, comforting rhythm. Finding this to be more difficult than she would have liked, she could feel a familiar greyness take hold, recognising the sensation as what she intellectually understood to be the effects of the limited oxygen her body was allowing itself. Whilst she knew on other occasions she would be fighting the sensation, or at least, from painful experience, finding somewhere safe to pass out, now feeling strong arms wrap around her, and a soothing voice in her ear, Alex let her body relax as the darkness mercifully claimed her.

-/-

Feeling her vision swimming back into focus, Alex was only mildly surprised to find herself settled carefully on her sofa, her head resting on a cushion. What the blonde found slightly disconcerting was the realisation that her pillow appeared to be moving, and there was a blanket over her that she was pretty sure, despite her practice in dealing with such episodes, she could not have placed there herself. Letting that thought take hold, she rolled onto her back readying herself to sit up, but instead a warm hand gently brushed the hair from her face as her gaze met with concerned brown eyes, and a gently teasing voice.

“Well, if nothing else, we’re quite a pair.”

Inelegantly pushing herself off Liv’s knee, and into a seated position, Alex rubbed her eyes roughly, and shaking her head. “Shit. How long was I out?”

Ignoring the feeling of Olivia’s hands steadying her, the blonde pinned the detective with what she hoped was her most effective icy stare as the other woman laughed softly.

“Language, Counsellor.”

Feeling the brunette’s eyes, now suddenly alert and sharp, raking over her, Alex tensed as she awaited the questions she knew were unavoidably coming her way.

“Only a few minutes.” One hand rested on Alex’s knee. The other, she realised was soothingly rubbing her back. “But seriously. Are you okay, Al? I take it this has happened before?” The concern in Olivia’s voice was sincere and undiluted, and there was something else in the words that Alex couldn’t quite place but that filled her with a familiar warmth. Alex knew that any attempt to circumvent the inevitable conversation which would follow was futile and instead she found herself leaning into the Liv’s touch.

She smiled ruefully, “I don’t know whether this will make you feel better or not, but that wasn’t even the first one this week, or the most inconvenient.” Figuring that all it would take was a conversation between Olivia and her partner somewhere down the line for this particular piece of humiliating information to slip out into the open, she sighed. “And by the way, I have to ask, do the floors of the bathrooms at the precinct ever get cleaned, because that is seriously not somewhere you want to find yourself on your ass anytime soon.”

Alex could see the detective absorb this statement, thoughtfully.

“Do you normally pass out?” Liv’s tone was bordering on aggressive, but Alex realised she could easily recognise the protective edge behind it.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. It seems to depend.” Looking carefully back at the detective, another wry smile played across her features. “We both know that despite my eloquence in front of a judge and jury, attempting to express my feelings to people who need to know them, is not necessarily my strong suit.” Seeing Olivia was still watching her closely, she raised an eyebrow. “I suppose now we have enough evidence to conclude, it’s also bad for my health.”

She rubbed her eyes forcefully, sending pricks of white light across her vision. “That said, I could probably do with getting my hands on my medication pretty soon, unless you want to witness a repeat performance, or at least an impressive migraine.”

At Liv’s alarmed glance, she smirked. “Don’t worry, my last shrink tried to tell me that was psychological, rather than physiological.” She shrugged. “As you can probably imagine, that particular appointment was short-lived.” The sigh that followed sounded pathetic even to her own ears. “But the drugs sometimes help.”

A gentle hand on her arm focussed Alex’s attention, as she saw Olivia beginning to push herself to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Alex’s tone was sharp, gaining a glare from the Detective.

“To get your meds, which I’m assuming you keep in the drug store that is your bathroom.”

“I see someone’s feeling better.”

Her eyes met Liv’s as both paused following the rapid exchange and the blonde felt the remaining tension drain away, suddenly transported to days of old, before gun shots and hiding and fear. A glance at the other woman told her she felt it too and Alex’s eyes welled up unexpectedly.

A comforting hand over her own forced the blonde to blink back the tears and pay attention to the other woman who was looking at her with a tenderness that made her chest ache, her voice again soft and soothing.

“Al, I don’t know about you, but I’ve not had the best few days, and I’m pretty beat.” Warm fingers traced the lines on Alex’s palm. “As much as I resent admitting it, I think I could use some more sleep, and I hate to break it to you but…” There was a pause before Alex felt a gentle hand cupping her face, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “I’m not the only one who looks like they need to give themselves a break and get some rest.”

Wanting to say something but unable to find the words, Alex swallowed. The air between them suddenly seemed heavy yet she found herself unable to break the tentative bond. The hand on her face moved to gently guide her down so that her head was once again resting on the cushion now back on Olivia’s knee, before trailing gently through her hair. She could, for once, find no argument as she greedily submitted to the comfort offered. As the body beneath her shuffled for a moment before settling, the fingers in her hair never stilled and she felt her eyes drift slowly closed.

-/-

**Thursday 6 th July 2006, 3.48pm, Alexandra Cabot’s apartment**

The sound of mumbled conversation pulled Alex back to semi wakefulness. An unfamiliar feeling of relaxation offered a greater warmth than the blanket that had been draped carefully over her, and she allowed herself a moment to bask in the sensation. Blinking away the heaviness she could feel permeating her limbs, she stretched before pushing herself upright to locate the source of the noise. Her surroundings finally coming into sharper focus, she surveyed the room curiously before locating Olivia hovering in the doorway leading to the kitchen speaking quietly into her cell phone. On seeing that Alex was awake, the other woman muttered a hurried goodbye, as she slipped the device into the pocket of the jeans that had at some point replaced the borrowed robe.

“What time is it?” The dryness in her throat caught Alex off guard and she coughed lightly.

Olivia was smiling at her gently.

“Almost four.”

Alex felt her eyes widen involuntarily.

“You let me sleep for three hours?”

Olivia’s expression seemed to soften further.

“It seemed like you needed it.”

The yawn that escaped as the blonde attempted a rebuttal made further argument futile and she found herself smiling back.

“How are _you_ feeling?”

Olivia sighed but her expression did not shift.

“My head’s felt better but I don’t think I’m gonna throw up or pass out, so I’m good.”

Alex laughed, a reaction if she was honest, more attributable to relief than anything else.

"How long have you been awake?”

Olivia was now observing her carefully.

“About an hour.” She nodded toward the coffee table on which sat the lawyer’s discarded phone. “Your cell was buzzing and I saw that you had five missed calls from El. Figured I better call him back before we gave him a heart attack.”

The sting of disappointment Alex felt, as the outside world crept uninvitedly into the bubble she had allowed to exist since the previous night, was sharper than she wished to acknowledge. Feeling her professional persona reflexively take hold, she nodded, now fully alert.

“Is everything ok?”

The detective took a breath before responding, still studying Alex curiously.

“The uniforms picked up Meyer a couple of hours ago.” Her eyes darkened. “In Battery Park.”

Recognising at once the familiar adrenalin, long forgotten, coiling through her system, Alex couldn’t help the determined smile as she reached for her cell and car keys, her eyes firmly meeting Olivia’s.

“Let’s go.”

**TBC….**


	17. Thursday 6th July 2006 5.52pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

 

**Thursday 6 th July 2006 5.52pm**

Sitting in the stationary rush hour traffic, Liv rested her forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, casually watching Alex in the reflection. Whilst the lawyer appeared outwardly every inch her cool and collected persona, Olivia could see, in the sporadic tapping of fingers against the steering wheel and the occasional glances being thrown in her direction that the younger woman was anything but calm. A flash of empathy running through her, she cautiously reached out, stilling the drumming hand with her own. She heard Alex’s intake of breath, before the lawyer turned to her anxiously.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

Smiling tiredly, Liv made sure that she held Alex’s gaze.

“I’m still awake, which is definitely progress.” She squeezed the hand under hers gently. “I could ask the same of you.”

Olivia watched as Alex’s expression shifted through what seemed like a range of emotions before settling on a tight, but genuine smile. “I’m okay.” On realising she was being so closely observed, the blonde shrugged. “Well, I’m not currently feeling the need to hyperventilate to the point of unconsciousness, so it’s all relative.”

Refusing to break the eye contact, Liv slowly lowered their joined hands to the console between them, rubbing her thumb lightly across Alex’s palm as she spoke softly.

“I know now is not the time, Al, but we are going to talk about this… all of this.” Olivia paused, taking in the silence and briefly wondering if she could pass off her sudden incoherence as a consequence of concussion, rather than sheer inadequacy at handling the emotional train wreck that this conversation could easily become. “I mean, I want to talk about this, if you want to… or if you just want to…”

A gentle pressure on her hand cut her short, and when she dared to look, Alex was examining her with the steady expression that Olivia associated with her watching an unpredictable juror on the final day of a trial.

“I want to talk about this, Liv.” She paused. “Okay, so _want_ may be a strong word, but I’ve come to the evidently obvious conclusion that we _need_ to talk about this. Because if nothing else, I believe the last few days have demonstrated that if we continue to avoid talking about this, it will do neither one of us any good.” The blonde grimaced. “However, I think our recent history would advocate that attempting to do so, either in a moving vehicle, or at the precinct in front of your colleagues, who I would suggest we have both already given enough to talk about this week, would be both ill-advised and potentially dangerous for all involved.” This time her smile was easier. “Besides, I think if your partner catches me in one more emotionally compromised situation this week, his head might actually explode.”

Olivia couldn’t help the curious look thrown in the blonde’s direction. “You’ve talked to Elliot?”

Alex shook her head self-consciously. “I think that is a story best saved for another time... one with alcohol…” She smiled wryly. “Let’s just say I fear my ability to utilise my Ice Queen persona on Detective Stabler in the near future has been severely compromised following our recent encounters.”

Before she could register the involuntary bristle of protectiveness rushing over her, Olivia felt a gentle hand on her arm.

“Relax, Liv. Whilst I might not have been in a position to truly appreciate it, your partner, in his own, sometimes slightly abrasive way, has been looking out for me this week, even when I gave him little reason to.” The blonde smirked. “Of course, if you ever asked me to repeat that confession to him, I would deny it under oath.”

Watching the tension flow out of the other woman’s posture, Olivia felt her own smile grow, as the easy warmth of familiarity washed over her. Closing her eyes, Liv leaned into the comfortable seat, as she savoured the realisation that Alex was yet to let go of her hand.

-/-

**Thursday 6 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 6.23pm**

Grateful to be interrupted from what was becoming a frustrating background search into their suspect, Elliot looked up as the bull pen doors swung open. Realising his body had tensed, he was caught between surprise, relief, and a hint of frustration, as he caught the warm glance between the two women who had entered the room. Whilst both looked tired, they stood close enough that their arms brushed as they walked, and the earlier tension, that had been palpable to anyone standing within the fallout zone, appeared to have dissipated, if not entirely vanished. Nodding at the pair, he was rewarded with two small, but genuine smiles, which soon turned to matching expressions of grim determination as it became clear that most occupants of the room were watching them curiously. Olivia, as could be predicted, was first to react, throwing out a pointed glare to anyone without the foresight to look quickly away, and marching over to the area where the three detectives had been huddled in preparation for finally speaking with Meyer. On seeing the arrivals, Cragen had also emerged from his office, strolling over to join the group. As he smiled genuinely at his returning detective, back in one piece, the combination of the heat and the last few days were not without impact, and Elliot could see the fatigue in his posture as settled himself on the edge of Fin’s desk.

“Good to see you, Benson.”

Olivia nodded in the Captain’s direction before directing her gaze to Elliot, and then Fin, who was observing the scene before him with a lazy interest. Alex was yet to speak, and Stabler’s own curiosity was piqued, as her steady presence beside Liv did not appear to necessarily be in a professional capacity.

Munch’s voice cut through the relative silence.

“So, come on, Cap. Who gets to take a crack at our friend in there first?”

Elliot smirked. “Based on last time, I would suggest, not you.”

“I don’t know. I think I make a pretty good bad cop, for such a nice guy.” Munch shrugged.

Cragen sighed, resignedly. “Olivia, you good for this?”

The look shared between the two women was so brief, Elliot thought he may have imagined it. But then Liv was nodding firmly.

“Thanks, Cap.”

Elliot was about to move beside his partner when instead, Fin pushed himself up from his chair, his face inscrutable.

“I’ve got this, Cap.” He looked briefly at Cabot before nodding in Stabler’s direction as if seeking permission.

Cragen, to his credit, kept any personal curiosity he may have had about the dynamics in the room, strictly to himself, and instead looked between his detectives.

“All good?”

Waiting until all four detectives mumbled in the affirmative, their Captain smiled grimly.

“Let’s nail the bastard.”

-/-

Elliot watched keenly as the rhythmic dance of a well-tuned interrogation played out through the mirror before him. Behind him, leaning casually on the metal table was Cragen. Whilst his posture was relaxed, Stabler knew he was observing intently, attuned through years of practice, for the first sign of trouble. The same description, however, could not be attributed to the woman beside him.

From the moment Meyer had been escorted reluctantly into the room by no less than three uniformed officers, Alex had stood almost rigidly still next to Elliot, to the point where he had found himself more than once checking whether she was in fact still breathing. With some level of amusement, he had soon realised that he had little need to be discreet in his observations, as the lawyers focus was in one place, or on one person, only.

Meyer himself had been largely silent throughout the whole process. His bulky form was hunched over in his seat, as he grunted reluctant responses to the warm up questions being thrown at him, in turn, by the detectives. Every so often, he would look up, mainly in the direction of Olivia, with an unreserved hostility. Whenever he did so, Stabler observed, the woman next to him inched closer to the glass dividing them, her gaze alert and steely.

Now almost an hour in, and with nothing to show for it, except an increasingly hostile perp, the frustration in the room was palpable. Accepting they were going to get nothing from the suspect through idle small talk, Elliot watched as Liv and Fin reached the same mutual conclusion, glancing briefly at each other before Olivia leaned forward on her seat, elbows resting on the table in front of her. Her tone slightly bored.

“Come on, Joe. Why don’t you just save us all some time and skip to the end.” She dropped her chin to rest on her hand. “We all know how this is gonna go down.”

At this, Meyer looked up, making eye contact. His expression was unreadable, but his deep voice stuttered slightly.

“It wasn’t….” He trailed off, looking back down. “I didn’t…..”

He stopped again.

Olivia eyed him casually.

“What is it Joe, you get a kick out of preying on vulnerable women?” She smirked. “Is that why you stayed with your wife when she was sick all those years?”

In a flash, Meyer was on his feet, leaning over the table, his speed, despite his weight, catching both detectives off guard.

Fin jumped back instinctively as the table lurched toward them. Olivia, however, was not so lucky and the hiss of pain, as the metal frame jarred roughly against her injured shoulder, echoed uncomfortably through the tinny microphone.

Stepping reflexively toward the glass, Elliot felt his body tense, an action he noticed was mirrored by the woman next to him whose posture was so still she appeared frozen.

“You need to pull Olivia out of there.”  Alex’s voice was calm but the danger lurking in her tone was cool and clear.

“Alex…”

Cragen glanced sideways at Elliot as he spoke but Cabot’s focus was too intently upon the view through the window to notice, or have any interest in, the silent interaction.

“Now, Don.”

In front of them, Fin cast Olivia a wary look before stepping closer to her, his body positioned between his colleague and the suspect. In response, Olivia nodded silently before making a point of standing, leaning somewhat menacingly over the table, her good arm bearing the strain as she levelled a stare at Meyer.

“I would suggest you sit back down, Joe.” The words were strained through gritted teeth.

Meyer appeared to assess the situation for a moment before acquiescing.

Fin’s eyes once again flicked toward Olivia before focusing back on their target. “Good choice.”

Following suit, Olivia dropped back into her seat. If her shoulder was still causing her pain, there was no outward sign of this. Instead she sounded relaxed, almost reassuring.

“Quit playing games, Joe. We know you did it. Your DNA was all over her. We have all the evidence we need, but it would be easier on everyone if you’d just tell us what happened.” She fixed him with another long look, bordering on sympathy. “Is this what your wife would have wanted?”

Meyer seemed to deflate, at the words, shrinking in to himself. Gripping the edge of the table in his large fists. Olivia tensed slightly, watching closely, but Meyer didn’t move. His head dropped further, and he swallowed heavily before lifting his eyes focusing distantly on his own reflection in the mirrored glass.

“It was the anniversary of Mary’s death. Six months.” He swallowed again. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone to group that night. Should’ve just stayed home.” His knuckles turned white against the table edge, before dropping forlornly atop it. “I’d already had too much to drink and Julie knew it.” He shrugged. “She offered to walk back with me, make sure I got home ok. Think she was worried I was gonna do somethin’ stupid. I’d already drank a bottle of Jack that afternoon.” A brief smile floated across his lips as his eyes glazed over. “It was her favourite, y’know? I’d taken some more with me, to help. I wanted to walk through the park, Mary always liked it there in summer, even the damn tourists. She sat on the bench with me, the one where we used to sit and just watch the ferries.” His gaze became focused once again. “She shared some of the bottle with me, though I don’t think she really wanted to, said it messed with her medication sometimes. But she did it anyway. We were just talking and then, I don’t know, all I could see was Mary. I kissed her. And then I…. then I…… I don’t even know why I did it. I just needed…. She tried to push me off, but I couldn’t stop.” He looked up, his expression one of genuine horror. “Oh, god.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And then she fell.” His gaze dropped to the table once again. “I don’t know whether she hit her head but then she started screaming and I just needed her to be quiet, so I grabbed her. I was just so mad. I just wanted someone else to hurt the way I was hurtin’. But she was still screaming, and I tried to make her stop. I must’ve grabbed her throat and I was just so angry that I held on, and then she stopped. She just stopped.” He paused before looking directly at Olivia. “I don’t even remember leaving. Don’t remember getting home. The next morning, I told myself it had all been a nightmare. I’d just drank too much and probably passed out somewhere before dragging my ass home. But then I saw the news and…”

As Meyer trailed off, the silence in the room was broken only by the scraping of Olivia’s chair and the creak of the door as it was tiredly pulled open. As his colleague disappeared from view, Tutuola shrugged.

“Joe Meyer, I am charging you with murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…..”

-/-

Hearing Fin begin issuing Miranda rights, Olivia let the door slip closed behind her. With only a cursory glance around her, she leaned heavily against the wall allowing herself a moment to both clear her mind of the justification she had just listened to, and more pressingly to get the pain in her shoulder, that had taken the brunt of the force from Meyer’s outburst, under some kind of control.

Knowing that she had only a brief reprieve before Elliot or, as unlikely as it may have seemed only twenty-four hours earlier, more probably Alex sought her out, she took a deep breath before pushing open the entrance to the other side of the interview room where she knew, without question, the two people in question would be.

As she entered the room, Olivia barely had time to note its occupants before Alex was in front of her taking gentle hold of her uninjured arm and steering her to the singular chair at the back of the small space. To their credit, neither her partner nor the Captain passed comment as the other woman observed her closely before producing two small white tablets from her bag and uncapping a bottle of water, passing both to Liv. Grabbing the pain killers gratefully, Olivia let herself sink into the chair taking a deep breath, waiting for the drugs to work their magic. As the throbbing receded, it took her a moment to realise that warmth she could feel was the steady pressure of a comforting hand on her back.

Her thoughts clearing, Liv looked up to see Cragen appraising her silently.

Casting what appeared to be a chastened look behind her, he nodded solemnly.

“Good work, Liv.”

Unable to muster any particular enthusiasm for the way events had unfolded, and the sad conclusion to that last four days, Olivia found herself simply nodding in return. The action reminded her unnecessarily of her other, more inconvenient injury, and she swallowed down an unexpected wave of nausea. As she closed her eyes, willing the sensation into submission, she could feel Elliot’s concern from across the room. The pressure on her back became a soft circular motion and she allowed herself a moment to sink into it.

Her partner’s voice cut through the silence. “I think it’s time we all called it a day, don’t you?”

Grateful beyond words, Liv opened her eyes to see their Captain signalling his own agreement. However, any further conversation was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door as it opened hesitantly to reveal a nervous uniformed officer.

Cragen watched him, nodding expectantly, but not unkindly.

“What is it, Carson?”

The young officer looked up, appearing surprised that the brass knew his name. Stuttering slightly, he adjusted the weight of his belt as he spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Sir. But front desk just called up. The Eastons are in the lobby.”

**TBC**


	18. Thursday 6th July 2006, 7.48pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

_“Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,_

_Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.”_

 

**Thursday 6 th July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit, 7.48pm**

 

Don Cragen nodded at the young officer as he excused himself from the room.

It was Alex who reacted first, her hand never leaving its position on Olivia’s back.

“I thought the Eastons weren’t due to arrive until the morning.”

“They must’ve caught an earlier flight.” Looking at Cragen, Elliot stood up tucking his shirt in and running a hand through his hair.  “Well, I guess I…”

“I’ll speak to them.”

All three occupants of the room turned to look at Olivia.

“Liv, you don’t have to.” Alex’s hand resumed its steady motion.

Olivia once more leaned into the touch, turning slightly to look at the other woman, before addressing her partner and their Captain. “I know, but I think I need to.”

Alex’s attention, however, was on only one person. “I’ll be right here, ok?”

Unable to prevent the warm smile, crossing her face, Liv stood tiredly, heading to the door. “I know.”

 

-/-

“Mr Easton?”

Olivia tentatively opened the door to the room that had not long ago been occupied by Joe Meyer.

Sitting at the table was a middle-aged man, with thick dark hair and expensive looking glasses, attractive in a classic All-American way, but clearly wearing the weight of recent events. Besides him was a young girl, maybe fifteen, with the same dark hair and angular face. For a moment Liv felt a flash of familiarity, which she recognised with sorrow, was a consequence of meeting the older version of the young care-free girl in the photograph carried reverently by Julie Ericson, or Jennie Easton, as now was clear.

As Liv entered the room, the man stood, as if on autopilot, offering a slightly shaking hand. “Hi. Mike Easton.”

Olivia accepted the handshake, before taking a seat, indicating for Easton to do the same and smiling gently at the girl next to him.

“Detective Olivia Benson.”

She nodded at the girl, who swallowed before meeting Olivia’s eyes. “I’m Emma.”

“It’s good to meet you, Emma. I know how hard it must be for you both right now, and I’m really sorry about what happened to your mom.”

The girl nodded again, her gaze fixing on the table between them.

Olivia shifted her focus to Mike Easton. “Mr Easton.”

He smiled sadly. “You may as well call me Mike.”

“Mike.” Olivia nodded solemnly. “I know you’ve been told that your wife has been identified as the victim in our case.” She watched him for a moment before continuing. “I understand that you haven’t seen your wife since…”

“Since she left.” Liv looked up at the source of the interruption to find that Mike Easton was doing the same, as he ran a hand through his hair, addressing his daughter reproachfully.

“Emma.”

The teenager fell silent.

Olivia paused again before continuing. “We have a suspect in custody. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more at this stage, and I appreciate how much of a shock this must be for you both. But if you have any questions, I’ll answer them as best I can.”

Easton nodded wearily. “What was…” He cleared his throat before continuing. “What was she doing?” His voice shook slightly. “Where was she living?”

The detective paused, searching for the most truthful yet least damaging response she could think of in the unusual situation.

“She’d rented an apartment. We found some personal belongings there and we can make arrangements to ensure you get these.” Liv watched for a moment as the man was yet to look up at her.

At that, Easton’s head jerked up in surprise. “Was she living with….” He shrugged tiredly. “Never mind. I don’t think I wanna know.”

Olivia nodded sympathetically. “There’s nothing to suggest she was involved with anyone whilst she was in the city.”

Whilst the comment was meant to be comforting, it only seemed to add to his desolation.

“But….”

The question was interrupted, once more, by a scathing voice. “C’mon, dad. Why does it even matter anymore? She left. That’s all we need to know.” The teen sank further into her seat. “It’s not like she couldn’t still get hold of us when she wanted.”

Easton looked at his daughter cautiously. “She contacted you?”

For a moment the girl looked like she was going to fall silent, as she bit her lower lip, the transparency of her thoughts belying the world-weary persona she was portraying.

“I got an IM.” She sighed, “instant message. Two weeks ago. She never said it was her, but I just knew. She said she missed us and she wanted to come home.” The defiance in her face did not appear to come from the parent sitting beside her, and Olivia got a sudden sense of whom Jennie Easton may have been.

Mike Easton ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you say something?” There was no anger in the question, just confusion.

His daughter watched him with equal caution and Olivia felt the familiar pull of empathy.

“I didn’t want to hurt you in case it was just a sick joke.” The teen sighed again, sounding this time, like her present parent. “Or she didn’t really mean it.”

Feeling the situation slipping irretrievably out of control, Olivia cleared her throat quietly, turning to Mr Easton, speaking gently.

“Did you know your wife was sick?”

The look on the Mr Easton’s face, as if his already crumbling world had disappeared from beneath his feet, told Olivia the answer to that question. She waited, giving him a moment to attempt to collect himself before continuing.

“She’d been diagnosed with an early onset form of dementia. We believe that she received the diagnosis shortly before she came to the city.”

“I don’t understand…. She was only……” The man broke off, as if unable to comprehend.

Liv found herself reaching out, her hand resting on the grieving man’s arm until he looked back at her.

“I’m really sorry, I can’t tell you much than that. But if you’d like I can arrange for one of my colleagues, Dr Huang, to speak with you…”

Olivia stopped at another interruption from across the table.

“I’m sorry.” The anguish was almost physical.

“Emma….” Her father’s voice cracked painfully.

The girl simply shook her head. Tears forming in her eyes but not falling. “I’m so sorry, dad. Maybe if I’d said something…. Maybe someone could’ve found her, before…. before…..”

For a moment, Mike Easton looked as if he was about to reach out to his daughter, before he swallowed heavily, lurching to his feet. “Excuse me, I just need a minute.”

Olivia felt her own heart sink at the crestfallen expression on the teenager’s face as her father fled the room. Unsure what to do, she moved around to occupy the vacated chair, resting a hand on the young girl’s arm until she looked up at her.

“Your mom carried a picture of you with her, you know.” Olivia smiled encouragingly. “You were probably around five or six years old wearing a baseball jersey, standing next to a lake.”

“She did.” Emma’s face lit up for a second, the girl in the photo shining through. “The detective back home said she had a bus ticket on her. Do you think she was trying to get home?”

The hope in her voice was painful to hear and despite biting back irritation at the sloppy Waterville PD, Olivia felt her own throat tighten as she fumbled for a response.

“I think your mom was trying to make things right.”

Liv watched closely gauging the impact of the sentiment. As the girl seemed to search her face for truth behind it, Olivia relaxed, the words tumbling out unchecked.

“She’d joined a group where she could be with other people who were going through the same thing she was, and she’d talked about you and your dad and how she’d left because she didn’t want the people she loved to have to watch her as she got sicker.”

Emma’s face shifted, as if attempting to assimilate the new information into the well-worn narrative in her head. Olivia found she could imagine all to easily the range of emotions running over it, until it settled into a sadness which seemed to fill the room with its intensity.

“But what if we wanted to be there?” The response was barely audible.

Olivia’s voice grew thicker as she ran a hand through her hair, her stare fixing blankly on the comforting neutrality of the blank wall, as the intent behind her words intensified. “There’s nothing worse than knowing someone you love has been taken from you, when they’re still out there and there’s nothing you can do to bring them back, to make it better.” She forced herself to focus back on Emma. “I think maybe she didn’t want you to go through that.”

The teen nodded silently, dark eyes meeting the detectives almost pleadingly. “How could she think that we’d be better off without her? That we’d just like forget all about her and get on with our lives like she never even existed.” Her voice broke, but Olivia couldn’t tell whether it was through anger or sorrow, or more probably a combination of the both.

Swallowing hard, Olivia looked down, blinking, suddenly unable to lift her eyes from the comfort of the battered grey table, as she heard herself continue.

“When people are scared they can make bad choices, even if they think they’re doing it for the right reasons. It can be really easy for someone to convince themself that leaving will protect the people they care about, because trusting them when you’re scared, when you need them, is just too hard.” She forced herself to again glance at the teen, who was watching her closely. Her right hand found a groove in the plastic edging and she picked at it absently as the words kept falling. “Sometimes it’s easier to convince yourself that no one will miss you because it’s safer than thinking about how much someone might be hurting because of you. Especially when it’s not your fault and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She reached out, placing her hand on Emma’s arm and meeting her eyes. “But your mom changed her mind. She was brave. She realised that sometimes painful memories are better than no memories. Sometimes you just have remind yourself about the good times, even when it’s really painful. That the memories are worth it.”

The girl bit down on her lip but this time was unable to prevent the tears forming.

Liv squeezed her arm, again meeting her eyes. “She wanted to keep remembering you. Why else would she carry that picture with her?”

“But why didn’t she….”

Olivia watched as the teen failed to choke back a sob and she felt the sting of moisture in her own eyes. Her hand shifted until it found Emma’s. She held on tightly as her own throat constricted.

“Sometimes you don’t know how good things are, or how much someone means to you, until it’s too late.” A tear escaped, and she swiped at it roughly with her free hand. “And when you realise what you’ve lost, it can be so easy to just get stuck in the memories that you have because getting past them, getting over what you’ve lost is just too hard.” As Emma watched her, Olivia felt her voice grow stronger. “But your mom was trying to do that, for you.” Her tone softened. “Even though she knew things might never be the same as they were, she wanted a second chance with you because she loved you, and even though it’s really hard, you should try and hold onto that when you think about her.”

“What if I can’t.” The fear in the girl’s voice made Olivia’s chest ache painfully. “What if I can only remember what it was like when she left?”

“Emma.” Liv paused making sure she had the teen’s full attention. The urgency in her voice surprised even her. “I want you to listen to me ok, because this is really important, and it’s taken me way too long to figure out, okay?” As the girl nodded, slowly, Olivia exhaled, the words flowing without thought. “Your memories of your mom are really powerful, and no-one can tell you anything else, but you do have some control over which memories you want to really remember. I’m not saying only remember the good times, but you can’t let the bad memories take away the good ones or stop you from living your life.” She leant forward taking the teen’s other hand in her own and pulling them together. “When you’re given a second chance that you don’t think you’re gonna get, you should take it.” As the girl looked up, Olivia’s voice dropped, the emotion in her words unmistakeable. “This is your chance to remember the mom that you knew, the one who loved you so much that she did whatever she thought she had to, to protect you, even if she made a really big mistake because she was scared. She deserves for you to remember her that way.”

Swallowing heavily, Liv stopped. Despite her own blurry vision, she felt her heart lift slightly at the watery smile looking back at her as the silence in the room offered, for once, a comforting moment of peace.

The creaking of the door behind her caused Olivia to jump. As she turned she was met by the pale figure of Mike Easton leaning heavily in the doorway. His eyes were damp as he looked past Olivia, focussing only on the young girl behind her.

“Detective.” He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his face. “Could you please give me a moment with my daughter?”

Wiping away a final stray tear, Olivia pushed herself to her feet. As Easton nodded a silent thank you, she again found herself swallowing down another wave of emotion as she watched him stumble across the room before dropping to his knees and pulling his daughter into a tight embrace as the rush of grief finally came in force.

As she turned around gently pulling the door closed to give them some much needed privacy, she found herself staring into a pair of red-rimmed but piercing blue eyes.

-/-

Unable to stop herself, even if she wanted to, Olivia’s legs carried her the few strides across the empty bullpen to the desk where the blonde lawyer was perched awkwardly.  The small smile curling at the edge of her lips was belied by an uncertainty in her eyes as she watched the detective approach, that Liv realised, with an ache, was fear. One arm was curled protectively around her middle, the other clutching the solid surface behind her. Feeling her own heart in her throat, Olivia paused as she reached her, frozen for a moment before slipping into the space left by the other woman in a mirror image, their shoulders close yet maintaining the false security borne by lack of actual physical contact.

Suddenly feeling equally exposed, Olivia took a breath, attempting to calm the hammering in her chest. Her spiralling thoughts were interrupted by searching eyes turning to watch her closely.

“Do you really believe that?” Alex’s voice was soft, the raw hesitance in it palpable. “That the memories are worth it?”

The openness in her expression was breath-taking and Liv’s eyes welled up as she found herself unable to look away. Forcing back the tide of panic, she inhaled once more as she felt a calming focus wash over her.

“I think good ones are worth holding onto, even when they kinda hurt.”

Their eyes still locked, Olivia swallowed as Alex remained silent. The blonde’s expression shifted to one of thoughtfulness. Feeling a rush of warmth run through her at the ease with which she recognised it, Liv waited.

“I think I understand it.” Alex paused once more. Breaking the connection her eyes appeared to fix upon the interview room door. Yet her arm now brushed Olivia’s lightly. “I understand what it’s like when you can’t trust your own memories.”

Holding on to their tacit link, Olivia shifted, focusing on the solid warmth against her arm as she nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.” She smiled softly. “You’re still you, Al. You’re still the person we remember.”

Alex turned sharply for a moment, blue eyes studying Olivia before retreating to the safety of the door. “She doesn’t feel like me.” Her voice shuddered slightly. “She wasn’t scared of anything. She had it all figured out.” The quiet laugh that escaped held no humour. “Right now, I’m not even sure she was real.”

“Well, I remember her. And she was pretty damn real to me.”

The unexpected ferocity in Liv’s response was tempered by the tightening of her throat and the moisture she blinked back as Alex again turned toward her.  Olivia waited for her to pull back, but instead her expression seemed to be one of genuine reservation.

“What if I can never remember who that person was?”

The softly spoken words hung lightly in the air but the pain behind them was almost suffocating. Unable to stop herself, Olivia turned, catching Alex’s hand in her own and tugging gently until she had her full attention. Ignoring the hitch in her voice and the growing obstruction in her vision, she made no attempt to conceal the tenderness she knew was dancing across her face.

“It doesn’t matter, Alex. She’s you. Nothing can change that. At least not for me.”

A cautious smile played at the corner of Alex’s mouth. “You really think that?”

At the unabashed wonder in the response, the weight bearing down on Olivia’s chest seemed to lift and she found herself grinning genuinely. She pulled once more on Alex’s hand until any remaining space between them was closed.

“Yeah.” Olivia raised an eyebrow. “You’re still arrogant, pushy…. and a real smart ass.”  As Alex turned toward her, warm breath ghosting across her face, Olivia’s voice hitched for an entirely different reason. Blue eyes appraised her closely. The familiar challenge in them was unable to fully disguise the gratitude behind it and Liv felt her smirk fade as she shrugged softly, unable to look away, as her tone became almost reverent. “You’re also determined, compassionate and one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

For a moment Alex looked like she was going to say something, before hesitating. As she shifted in place, her chin dropping, Olivia’s free hand reached out, gently preventing the movement.

“I mean it, Al.” Liv smiled softly, her eyes seeking out Alex’s. “I know who you are.” She paused, suddenly conscious of the hammering in her chest pounding a staccato rhythm in her ears.  “And I really like that person.” As Alex inhaled, Liv caught the sheen of tears forming quietly and her own words cracked under the weight of the moment, choking out of a constricted throat. “In fact, things kind of sucked when she wasn’t around.”

This time it was Olivia who turned away, swiping roughly at her cheek with her free hand. Composing herself as best she could, she swallowed heavily summoning the courage to look back at the woman in front of her. She was met by a hand reaching out to take a careful hold of her own, drawing them together closer still.

“I’m here, Liv.” Alex’s voice shook but the fierceness of her expression left the intent behind the words clear. “I’m here now.”

Olivia’s breath stilled as hands lifted to her face, gently brushing away a remaining tear, before soft lips brushed gently against her own. As Alex, pulled back, she watched Liv shyly for a moment, lowering her arms and tangling their fingers loosely together as if unable to fully untether. Willing her heart to stop racing, Olivia, swallowed nervously, holding on to the reassuring pressure of the hands resting in her own.

The rumblings of movement across the room caused both women to start slightly. Olivia waited resignedly for Alex to pull away but instead she smiled wryly, nodding in the direction of the entrance, tugging Liv lightly with her. As the doors swung slowly closed behind them, she could hear the faint chatter from the bullpen swirling idly in the sudden calm of the evening. Head held high, she was unable to stop the smile from forming as she felt a hand lightly clasp her own before coming to rest on her lower back, guiding her carefully down the hallway. The elevator singing its familiar tune, Liv felt the pain and exhaustion of the past few days drain away leaving her with a strange sensation her hazy mind struggled to make sense of as she turned to look at the woman beside her. Blue eyes watched her tenderly for a moment, before she felt the reassuring weight of fingers once more entwining with her own. Taking a long breath, she revelled in an unexpected peace as warm words drifted softly into her ear.

“Liv, it’s time to go home.”

 

/end


End file.
